Inkthief
by UnNaMeAbLeNeSs9700
Summary: When Capricorn and Basta are read out of Inkheart, it isn't just Dustfinger who's dragged along, but also his daughter Rosanna. Her father forced to leave her behind, Rosanna is taken in by Mo. But when Dustfinger finally returns for her, Mo refuses. As the events of Inkheart take place, Dustfinger will have to work not just to get home, but also to get his daughter back.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: Characters and locations found in the Inkworld Trilogy belong to Cornelia Funke, not us. We only own the characters we create. :)**

 **A/N: Updates on our writing progress and a few little extras can be found on our Twitter and Instagram pages. Links for those are found on our profile page. Thank you. :)**

Prologue

Dustfinger carried his youngest daughter in his arms, his oldest walking beside them, carrying the bag containing his supplies in her small hands as they made their way through the trees, back to where the Strolling Players stayed every time they performed in Ombra. A smile played across his lips as he looked at the two children he called his own, Rosanna's small dark curls bouncing in time with the way Brianna's fiery red hair swished from side to side with each step she took to match his.

It had taken quite a bit of convincing from him and pleading from the girls to get Roxane to allow him to take the two of them with to his performance, even if it was only an overnight trip in Ombra. He loved the way their faces lit up as they watched him, but it was so rare for his own family to see him perform in a crowd since Rosanna had been born. Over the past year, Roxane had taken to staying home more and more often, preferring to raise their daughters in a home that didn't change every few days.

She had even begun to grow disappointed whenever he left to perform with the Motley Folk. His response was always the same - he loved spending time with her and their girls, but he'd never lived in one place for long, and he just couldn't grow used to it no matter how hard he tried.

He ran a hand over Brianna's hair as they walked, the corners of his mouth lifting as she looked up at him with a grin that revealed the single gap where a tooth had been just a few days ago. She was full of so much energy compared to her younger sister. Whereas Brianna was practically skipping along the path, Rosanna was slowly drifting off, her head drooping every so often before she jerked it back up again. Eventually she laid her head against his shoulder with a small yawn, pulling one arm in to rest between the two of them as the other reached up to brush her fingers across his cheek.

Her breathing was just beginning to slow when Dustfinger was jerked backwards by the collar of his shirt before being shoved against the trunk of a tree, causing the child to jolt awake with a small cry quickly followed by Brianna's scream as she pressed up against him, clinging to his legs. Before he could react, the sharp edge of a knife pressed against the skin just under his chin as an all too familiar face appeared out of the darkness. .

"Hello again Fire-Dancer," the man said in a low voice, making Dustfinger tense, his grip immediately tightening on both Rosanna and Brianna.

"B - Basta," he forced out. "I wasn't expecting to see you around here."

"Or your leader," he added, his voice softening in surprise as Capricorn, the head of the feared group of fire raisers stepped out from behind another tree, the cold smile on his face just visible in the pale moonlight.

Dustfinger's muscles tensed even more as he felt Basta's breath against his face, the man having moved closer in order to be heard over Rosanna's sobs.

"I told you I'd be back for you," the fire raiser hissed. "I'm going to finish what I started and then you'll be so unrecognizable, even the minstrel woman won't recognize you."

As Dustfinger swallowed nervously against the blade, he could feel Brianna press herself closer to him, trusting him to protect them. He laid his hand on her back, hoping that the darkness hid the slight tremor of his fingers as he held her close to him.

"Come now," he said, his voice shaking slightly. "I'm sure you've found another woman you want by now. There's really no reason to finish this."

His gaze flicked over to Capricorn for an instant, just long enough to see the man lean back against a tree, an expression of amusement on his face as if he was about to watch an extremely entertaining performance, before he looked back to see Basta looking at Rosanna with an expression of utter annoyance.

"Loud little brat, isn't she?" he muttered before looking back at Dustfinger, his voice lowering threateningly. "But you see, I think there _is_ reason to finish this, Fire-Dancer. I promised you, didn't I? And I always go through with my promises."

Dustfinger winced slightly, almost as if he could already feel the knife biting into his skin, continuing where Basta had left off, from just a few words. How was he supposed to get both himself and his daughters out of this without harm?

His eyes snapped back to Capricorn as the head fire raiser stepped forward, reaching his hands out as if to take Rosanna.

"Here, let me help you with that, Basta," he said as Rosanna cowered away from him further into Dustfinger's arms. "Can't exactly go on with all that threatening you love so much with a baby in the way."

"Daddy," the small child whimpered, tears still sliding down her cheeks as Dustfinger's grip tightened.

The fire raiser never got the chance to get any closer, however, before something in their surroundings suddenly changed. Rosanna's cries immediately softened, and both the fire raisers and their intended victim froze as the familiar landscape of Lombrica disappeared; even the bark of the tree that Dustfinger had been shoved against was no longer digging into his back.

A soft gasp behind him made Basta whip around, letting Dustfinger go in the process as he brandished his knife at the man staring at them in utter terror from the other side of the small room. Dustfinger quickly looked around their new surroundings, utter confusion and panic quickly building inside him as he realized how unfamiliar this place was and that his eldest daughter was nowhere to be found.. He quickly put Rosanna down behind him in case Basta's attention returned to him before he could figure out the way to get them out of here. He didn't even care where _here_ was at the moment. He just needed to get his daughter away from these men.

He could feel the tug of tiny hands clutching his pants leg as Rosanna pulled herself unsteadily to her feet behind him, her cries returning to a louder volume now that the surprise had worn off. He took a small step back and held his hands out as the man in front of them picked up Capricorn's sword from where it had fallen to the floor at his feet, pointing it shakily at the three of them.

Suddenly, Capricorn's hand shot out and grabbed Dustfinger, pulling the fire-dancer in between himself and the sword as he and Basta slowly backed towards the door at the other end of the room.

"You're not getting away from us that easily, Fire-Dancer," he hissed into Dustfinger's ear.

Dustfinger's gaze flew back to Rosanna, her cries reaching an even higher pitch as she called for him, sitting on the floor with her arms reaching out to him.

"No," he gasped as he struggled against Capricorn's grip. "Rosanna."

He had to get back to her. They couldn't take away the one thing he was sure he still had. He couldn't lose his baby.

He continued to struggle as he was dragged towards the door leading out of the house, away from his daughter, but as he was forced out onto the street, he stopped. He wasn't strong enough to get away from even one of them by force, much less both of them.. He'd have to figure out another way, and soon. He had to get back to Rosanna.

He closed his eyes for a moment in defeat as he was forced to go with Basta and Capricorn, his daughter's sobs fading as he was dragged further and further away.

* * *

Dustfinger leaned against a tree with a sigh and closed his eyes. He'd walked so far today, feeling completely hopeless through most of it. Though, if he was truly honest with himself, he'd felt that way for the past two years. The most confusing and miserable years that he could remember ever experiencing. He still had no idea where he was, or how he'd gotten there. He just knew that it was the loudest, most terrifying place he'd ever been. But he refused to even consider looking for a way back until he had his little girl back in his arms. She would be three by now… And he hadn't seen her since that terrible night.

By the time he'd finally managed to get away from Capricorn and Basta, it had taken him weeks to make it back to the house he remembered as the last place he'd seen his daughter. But in that amount of time, the man he'd seen pointing a sword at them had completely disappeared, along with Rosanna. The only familiar thing he'd found there was Gwin hunting in the nearby bunch of trees. It had taken much pleading to convince one of the neighbors to tell him that the man and two little girls - strange because he only had the one that people could remember - had moved, very suddenly it seemed.

But now, after so much searching, he had a feeling that he was in the right place. He opened his eyes and looked across the street at a small house shoved between two others that were nearly identical to it.

 _Please let this be the one_ , he silently pleaded as he quietly made his way across the street.

He stepped up to the door and raised his hand to knock, but stopped just before it could touch the wood. Lowering it, he glanced back to the tree at the other side of the road where he had left Gwin behind, as he contemplated just turning around and leaving. He'd checked so many houses in the past two years, this one probably wasn't the right one either. Which meant that it would only lead to yet more heartbreak when he realized his daughter was still gone.

Taking a deep breath, he shook his head and raised his hand again. No; he wouldn't turn around when he was this close. There was just as much of a possibility that Rosanna really was inside this house. And if that was true, he would never forgive himself for leaving her again. He hesitated for one more second before knocking on the door, taking a step back as he realized that he had actually done it..

After waiting for a moment, the sound of the handle turning let him know someone was answering just as the door opened. As he met the shocked gaze of the man he hadn't seen in two years, his mouth opened slightly as he realized that he'd actually found him. In his arms was a small child who was obviously very sick. Her small face was flushed red with fever, her breaths coming more labored than they should through sleep as she instinctively kept trying to breathe through her stuffed nose. Sweat made her dark curls stick to her skin, and even her thin nightgown clung to the dampness of her skin. It had to be Rosanna. _His_ Rosanna; but she was so much bigger now.

"What's wrong with her?" he asked worriedly, any possible formalities thrown to the wind as his eyes stayed glued to his daughter.

The man holding Rosanna immediately angled his body so that Rosanna was further away from him, looking at him with distrust.

"She'll be fine," was the only answer he gave, but it seemed much more serious than what the man was saying.

Dustfinger couldn't take his eyes away from her for a long moment, his eyes tracing her face as if to memorize it. She looked even more like her mother now that she was bigger, and it had only been two years. Finally, his gaze moved back to the man holding tightly to Rosanna.

"She's my daughter," he said worriedly. "You know that, don't you?"

He paused as he waited for some kind of reaction from the man before continuing on as he received none. "Please. I've been looking everywhere for you."

"I'm sorry Dustfinger," the man replied, shaking his head as he moved to close the door. "But you can't take her now. It's been too long."

Dustfinger's hand quickly shot out, stopping the door before it could close. He looked desperately at Rosanna, wanting so badly to hold her in his arms. To comfort her, let her know he was there for her.

"She's my daughter," he said again as if the man wasn't understanding. "You can't take her away from me. She's the only thing I have left."

"It's been two years, Dustfinger," the man replied, irritance growing in his voice as he glanced down at the hand holding his door open. "She probably doesn't even recognize you. I'm her father in her eyes and Meggie is her sister. Neither of them really remember what happened. Neither of them really remember you. You want to put them through adjusting to all that again? It took Rosanna forever to completely adjust and she was a baby then. You want to put her through that again?"

Rosanna made a small noise in her sleep as she moved slightly. Dustfinger watched, muscles tense, as the man ran a hand down her dark curls, comforting her until she settled back down. Of course he didn't want to put her through any emotional distress; he was her father. But this man standing in front of him didn't seem to understand that he still needed her back.

"You can't tell me that you wouldn't want your daughter back if she had been taken from you," he said quietly, looking back up into the man's face. "Snatched away for two long years. And then you finally find her only to be told that the person who took care of her has grown too attached to give her back to her own father. Tell me you wouldn't want her back even then."

He could tell from the silence that followed that he was right. No parent would be satisfied letting their child be taken away from them like that. But still the man's expression became more frustrated.

"What are you even going to do with her?" he asked, obviously louder than he had intended by the look on his face as Rosanna jerked awake with a small cry.

Dustfinger watched as his daughter looked from the face of the man holding her to his own, her eyes lingering on him until the man laid her back down again, whispering to her. He watched her reach up to run her fingers over the man's face as she blinked heavily, the fever obviously draining her of all of her energy. He barely even registered that the man was opening his mouth to resume speaking as he watched her eyes meet his, staying there until she finally drifted back to sleep.

"Do you even have a home?" the man asked softly, the hostility that remained tearing Dustfinger's attention away from Rosanna. "A job? A car? She's sick. Do you even know how to handle it? Could you help her? Do you know what medicines to give her? Do you have the money to pay for those medicines?"

Dustfinger jerked back as if he'd been slapped. The realization of how little he had weighed down on him, feeling as if it would crush him.

He looked back down at Rosanna, remembered the short instant when she had opened her eyes and looked at him, watching him as she fell back asleep. He knew he'd never be able to take care of her while she was sick like this. But he couldn't just leave her; not when he'd just found her.

"At least let me see her every once in awhile," he pleaded softly, closing his eyes against the pain of the words that he was forcing himself to say. "Please. Don't keep her from me."

It was silent for a moment before the man replied with a slightly annoyed sigh. "Fine. Fine, you can see her sometimes."

Dustfinger nodded, breathing out a sigh of relief. As long as he would be able to know she was safe and happy, he might be able to resign himself to the fact that he couldn't take care of her for now. He just had to remember that his daughter could be kept from him completely if this man really wanted to and that he should be grateful that he would at least be able to see her.

"Is it alright if I come back in a few days to make sure she's okay?" he asked quietly, giving his daughter another worried look.

The man gave a stiff nod, absentmindedly brushing a hand over the little girl's hair again as she slept. Dustfinger couldn't help but notice that the man had tightened his grip on her as he did so. His hand twitched slightly at his side, wishing he could take her small hand in his just once, but knowing that the man would never allow it.

"Come back then," the man said, moving to close the door again.

Dustfinger nodded, taking one more look at his daughter before forcing himself to turn away, wincing as he heard the door click shut behind him.

* * *

Dustfinger froze in the open doorway of the same house he'd been at only days before. It was obviously empty; the door unlocked and ajar, most of the furnishings gone, others scattered about as if they'd been dropped by someone in a hurry. Anger and despair churned in his chest as the realization that he'd been lied to hit him. His baby was gone again, just like that. She'd been so sick when he'd seen her. Why couldn't he have at least been able to make sure she was healthy before she was snatched away from him again?

He walked through the small house, looking around at all of the signs of life that had been deserted. He stopped in the doorway of one of the rooms as he noticed small marks on the wall next to it. There were two rows, one a bit taller than the other, with a single symbol above each one. It vaguely resembled the writing that the merchants would sometimes use on their stalls to let the higher stationed shoppers know what was being sold. He ran his fingers along the lower marks, images of the last time he'd seen his daughter playing through his mind.

As he walked further into the house, he paused, looking through one of the open doorways into a room with two small beds, flowers painted along one wall. As he took a step inside, he heard a snap and quickly looked down, his eyes landing on a piece of glass under his boot. He bent down to examine what was beneath it, his eyes widening as he saw the smiling face beneath it. He carefully moved the piece of glass and broken wood that surrounded it as he picked it up, staring at the small face of Rosanna looking back at him. He brushed his finger across it before carefully sliding the picture into an inside pocket of his jacket.

As he moved to get up, his eyes caught on something partially hidden behind the door. His hand hovered just above it as he recognized it for what it was. He wrapped his fingers around the small doll as he picked it up and stared at it as he straightened up. He remembered the days Roxane had spent making this while she was pregnant. She had made one for Brianna when she was born too. Rosanna had had this every day since she was born. She'd absolutely refused to go anywhere without it, which was why it had been in his bag the day everything had been taken from him.

He slowly placed it in the same pocket as her picture, making sure that it wouldn't fall out. As he looked around the empty room once more, he was positive that they were gone. He took a deep breath before walking out again, shutting the door behind him. He would just start over until he found them again. He wasn't going to let his daughter slip away from his this easily.

After he had stepped out of the house, pulling the door closed behind him, he stopped to look at the house once more before he left to resume his search for his daughter. He jumped at the sound of a door slamming beside him, turning to see an older woman climbing out of what he'd by now learned was called a car after he'd almost gotten hit by them several times.

"Oh, are you looking for Mo?" the woman asked him as she put her bag over her shoulder. "They just moved a day or two ago. Right in the middle of his daughter being sick too. She's in the hospital now, you know. Poor thing's fever wouldn't go down."

The woman shook her head sadly before wishing him a good day and walking into her house as he stared after her. Her last words echoed in his mind as he turned and walked away stopping only long enough for Gwin to scramble up onto his shoulder before he began walking again. She had to be alright. This _Mo_ had told him that he was able to take care of her. Unless he had lied about that too… No. He refused to believe that, not with the way he had looked at Rosanna - as if she was his daughter too.

He stopped and pulled out the picture of her, looking at it as he tried to calm his racing heart. He'd find her again. And when he did, there was no way he was letting her go again. Not after this.


	2. Secrets in the Night

Chapter 1

Secrets in the Night

Dustfinger hunched his shoulders against the droplets of water that fell cold on his skin, soaking his hair and his clothes. He squinted his eyes, trying to see through the rain and the darkness. It had been four years since he had last laid eyes on his little girl and nine since he was last able to hold her or speak to her. Every couple of years he would find her, but Silvertongue only allowed him to look at her from afar; never allowed to speak to her, never allowed to let her see him and Silvertongue would be gone within a matter of days at the most. He had honestly thought about giving up, but he couldn't bring himself to try and return without her. Roxane would never forgive him.

Taking a deep breath, he squinted his dark eyes at the house before him. It wasn't much at all, but given how Mo had to keep hidden from Capricorn and his men, it was no wonder his houses were always the most inconspicuous, plain looking places he could find. Dustfinger could understand trying to keep hidden, he himself had as well, and he was grateful that Rosanna had been kept safe in his care, but why couldn't Mo at least have told him where they were so he could see his daughter in more than just a single glimpse only to be ushered out the door yet again with years in between visits.

He glanced back at the rain, contemplating turning back for only a split second before turning and walking towards the door once again. He was tired of worrying about what would happen if he met them - if he met her. Dustfinger just wanted to get his daughter back and take her home; it shouldn't have been too much to ask.

And he had seen her, for a split second through an upstairs window, her small face illuminated in the dark by the candles that burned before her. She'd grown so much. She was more and more like her mother every glimpse he got of her; just as beautiful.

* * *

Rosanna sat on the window seat in her room, leaned against the wall as she watched the rain pour in the darkness of the outside world. She didn't like the dark. She had never liked it. That was why three of the candles Meggie had given her burned on the windowsill, casting a faint orange glow over her hand as she passed it above the flames, watching the way they followed her movements almost as though they were alive.

The rain was another thing she never liked for rain brought with it thunder and lightning. Luckily for her, the fine whispering spring rain that fell on her house tonight hadn't seemed to have brought them with it. It didn't often do that and she had lost count of the amount of times she ended up in Mo's bed, watching him read as he held her, occasionally whispering words to calm her at each clap of thunder until it passed.

She had never been quite as fond of books as Meggie and Mo and certainly not enough to read late into the night like they did, but she had always loved the glow of a flame to break up the darkness she feared so Meggie had given her a few of the candles and a box of matches she kept hidden from Mo.

Unlike her sister, Rosanna preferred to hear a story than read it, but Mo had never read aloud to her or Meggie. Some nights though, Meggie would read to her late at night so Mo wouldn't hear as she fell asleep. Tonight, however, her sister hadn't wanted to. Rosanna had said okay and left her alone despite her disappointment. Their stories had never been an every night thing, but Rosanna had really hoped to hear a good one that night.

A gasp caught in the young girl's throat, however, when her eyes caught the silhouette of a person standing in the yard below her. For a long moment, she only stared in silence, but eventually, she slowly moved forward, pressing her hands and forehead against the cool glass in attempt to get a closer look. She made sure to stay well out of the way of the flames as she did, careful not to burn herself. Mo definitely wouldn't let her have the candles if she did.

Fear made her heart beat faster in her chest and ever so slowly she moved away from the window, bending down to blow out the flames. She slid off the bench, never taking her eyes off the window, and inched her way across the floor as though the sound of her footsteps might draw his attention to her even though she knew such a small sound would be impossible to hear down there, especially through the rain.

As she stood out in the chilly hallway, she suddenly realized she wasn't sure what to do. If she told Mo, he would know she was up past her bedtime and that she was burning candles even though he had specifically told her not to. Perhaps she could tell Meggie, though. Her older sister ought to know what to do and if someone had to tell Mo at least Meggie was allowed to stay up later even though it was actually past her bedtime too.

"Meggie?" she called, her voice but a whisper in the darkness of the small bedroom, as she peeked her head into her sister's room. "Meggie, I'm really scared. There's some guy in our front yard."

The blankets moved away to reveal Meggie nestled under them, a book clutched in her hand. It wasn't an uncommon sight. The older girl heaved a sigh at her sister's intrusion. She had just gotten into her book.

"I'm sure you just imagined it, Ro," she said softly as she slipped out of her bed to walk over to the young girl. "Come on. I'll sit with you in your room for a little bit."

Normally, such a thing would calm Rosanna down rather quickly, but usually, the thing causing her fear was imaginary or just a storm. This time, however, what she saw was one hundred percent real and she knew it.

"I didn't imagine it!" protested Rosanna. "Come on. I'll show you. He's really out there."

Grabbing her sister's hand, the little girl hurriedly pulled Meggie back to her room, gesturing over to the window seat. Rosanna, however, kept her distance, hesitating in the doorway, almost afraid to get too close.

"Look out the window. You'll see someone, I promise."

Meggie only looked at her sister for a long moment before giving a slight shake of her head and walking over to the window. She stepped back with a small gasp as her eyes landed on the moving figure of a man, but only for just a second. Her gaze moved to look back at her little sister for a moment before cautiously approaching the window once more. Perhaps she had imagined it. When the figure was nowhere to be seen this time, Meggie gave another quiet sigh.

"See, Ro," she said. "No one is there. Or even if they were, they're gone now."

"But….but…." murmured the child as she bounded back towards the window, sable curls bouncing with each frantic step. An expression of confusion, fear, and something almost like desperation crossed her features as she turned to look at Meggie, lips parting to explain.

"There really was someone there, Meggie. I'm not making this up. There really was a man and he was standing right there," she pointed to a spot below the glass. "Just standing there. Staring. It was creepy."

"Why don't we get Mo?" Meggie said as she cast one more doubtful glance out the window before quickly adding: "just in case."

"I'm not supposed to be awake," Rosanna said softly, looking towards the door as though he could show up at any moment and find her standing there instead of sleeping. She didn't want Mo to be upset with her, but the thought of the man in the yard really freaked her out. The next thing she knew, though, Meggie had wrapped an arm around her shoulders and was steering her out of the room.

""Come on, Ro," said the older girl, voice soft. "It's Mo. He never gets upset with us."

Meggie was right. He never did get mad at them, she couldn't remember ever hearing him even raising his voice, but she hated the thought of him knowing she hadn't done what she was told. Usually, she didn't stay up this late, either; maybe only half an hour or so. Just long enough for her to stare into the candle flames and think, but tonight she had long since lost track of time.

When they finally reached his door, Meggie knocked softly before peeking her head in. Mo would probably be reading and if he was, he would be too absorbed in the story to hear something as trivial as someone knocking. Sure enough, when Rosanna peeked in as well, she saw Mo sitting on his bed, book in hand and eyes moving quickly across the pages. Only when the girls had called him several times did he look up from the world of printed letters to glance over at them, wearing the same expression he always wore when his reading had been interrupted.

"Meggie? Rosanna?" he asked when he finally got his bearings. "What are you two doing out of bed?"

"Ro thinks she saw someone standing outside the house through her window," came Meggie's voice as she glanced back towards her sister. "And I think I might've too, for a second. But then he was gone."

Mo feigned a small smile in their direction, though it seemed as though he knew something they didn't; something unsettling even. Rosanna's father had never been particularly great at hiding his emotions.

"It's probably no one," Mo assured the two young girls standing before them. "But I'll check it out if it helps you get to sleep better. You two go back to your rooms and I'll come and tuck you back in when I'm done."

Meggie and Rosanna both nodded, worried expressions on their faces before Meggie led her younger sister back to her room, but paused behind the door, planning to sneak after him when he was no longer paying attention. Rosanna sighed quietly as Meggie leaned her head against her younger sister's, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze as they waited and listened.

After a moment, Meggie peered out of the small room. She must have decided they'd given Mo enough time to get to the door because she took Rosanna's hand in hers and slowly pulled her out into the hallway. Making sure to keep their footsteps silent, they crept closer until they were within earshot of the entrance and their father. The sound of his footsteps reached their ears, followed by the squeaking of the door as Mo pulled it open.

"You're not supposed to be here," was all he said; a phrase that grabbed at Rosanna's curiosity. Mo had never, ever spoken so abruptly to anyone. At least not that she could remember.

As silent as a mouse, Rosanna continued on further than Meggie dared, crouching down behind the railing on the staircase to hopefully catch a glimpse of the visitor that would warrant such a tone from Mo. She wrapped her fingers around two of the balusters, pressing her face in between them as she tried to get a better look, but the stranger was hidden behind the open door. It was a risk, sitting here in the open. Mo would be able to see her if he actually looked, but she could see them now too and she hoped he would be too preoccupied to notice.

"Hello again, Silvertongue," came an unfamiliar voice. A step or two sounded through the entrance way as the floor creaked beneath them. Mo tightened his grip on the door, standing as though he was blocking the way. "I've been looking for you."

At the sound of such a strange name, especially when it was Mo the stranger was so obviously referring to, Rosanna glanced back over her shoulder at her older sister. ' _Silvertongue?'_ she mouthed. It wasn't a name she had heard before. In fact, she didn't even know what it was supposed to mean. Meggie must not have either, only shrugging her shoulders and giving a small shake of her head in response to her sister's question.

"I can tell," came Mo's voice, bitter and cold. It brought Rosanna's attention back to their conversation. "I'm not giving you what you want if that's what you're here for."

The stranger stepped closer, so close Mo had to take a step or two back, though he still held tightly to the door as though he wished he could just close it and be done with this man, but he was already in the house. Rosanna could just see his face in the space between Mo and the door; the long wavy hair that hung sopping wet at either side of his face until it reached his shoulders, the sparse gingery stubble that lined his jaws and the lower part of his cheeks, and most of all, the expression on his face. She saw anger there and desperation, but for what, she did not know and it kind of scared her.

"If you would have given me what I wanted when I asked the first time, we wouldn't have to keep doing this," came the stranger's low voice once again. She noticed the emotions on his face were starting to come into his voice now… or had she only just now noticed upon seeing his expression? "You would do the same thing if you were in my position, Silvertongue. You wouldn't give up and I certainly don't plan to."

The stranger glanced back at something behind the door before looking back at Mo. "Considering the amount of times I've found you, it's a miracle Capricorn hasn't yet," he added.

Rosanna shifted uncomfortably at his words, careful to stay silent and not draw too much attention to herself. What did this man at their door want and who was this Capricorn? What kind of name even was Capricorn and what did he want with them too?

"You need to leave." That was Mo's voice, but at the same time, it wasn't. Not the Mo Rosanna was used to anyway; the kind Mo who never angered and always spoke so calmly, so full of compassion and love. But to this man, he only showed an uncharacteristic coldness that only increased her fear of this strange man.

"What, so you can just run off again?" argued the man at the door, his voice a bit snappier now. "I'm tired of chasing you around for something that's already mine, Silvertongue. Capricorn will eventually find you, it's only a matter of time. He's been searching everywhere for you; you and that accursed book. What do you think he'll do when he gets ahold of both it and you?"

"I've managed to stay ahead of Capricorn for nine years now, Dustfinger. I'll manage just fine." Mo tightened his grip on the door once again, defiance and determination in every inch of his expression. Dustfinger. So that was his name… and a very strange one at that. Where were all these weird names coming from? Rosanna had never heard anything remotely like the name Dustfinger.

"He's getting closer than before this time," frustration grew in this man - Dustfinger's - tone as he folded his arms across his chest. He looked cold and she had no doubt he was. It was late May, after all, still kind of chilly, especially at night, and he was standing there soaking wet. "He's already got himself a reader, but he's a terrible one. Capricorn's growing more and more frustrated with him. Do you really think you can protect… everything - by yourself?"

"I've managed it so far, haven't I?" snapped Mo and Rosanna flinched back at the harshness of his tone. She'd never heard him sound like that before. After a moment, her face was pressed against the balusters once more, heart beating more rapidly with each passing second this man stayed here, urging Mo to react in such a way.

This man wasn't just a stranger. If a stranger were standing on their doorstep soaked through and shivering like this one was, Mo would have invited him into the entryway while they talked, at least, but this time he had even tried to lock him out until the man forced his way in.

The man opened his mouth to retort once again, but he paused at the last second and turned his gaze up the staircase until it landed directly on her, their gazes meeting. For the first time, Rosanna got a good look at the stranger's face - and the three pale scars that adorned it. Her breath caught in her throat as she froze there, holding his gaze.

"Seems like you can't even tell when the people living in your house are following you, Silvertongue," he said softly and almost distractedly as he continued to gaze up at her. Rosanna couldn't tell what emotions his expression held.

It wasn't until Mo turned to look at her that she drew her eyes away from the stranger to look back at him for just a moment. Realizing that she had in fact been caught, she slowly rose to stand and lean slightly over the railing to get an even better look at the strange man below her, searching for any sign of familiarity. He had said he kept finding them, but she didn't remember ever seeing him.

"Rosanna," came Mo's voice, drawing her attention back to him. He sounded much too stern for the young girl's liking. "Go to your room."

"But…" The child began to argue, but Mo cut her off.

"Now. Please."

Rosanna only gave a slight pout as she slowly and hesitantly trudged back up the stairs, casting the stranger one last curious glance as he seemed to mouth something that looked suspiciously like her own name before the wall obscured her view of him. She noticed Meggie was looking at her as Rosanna passed the older girl She didn't move at first, but as Rosanna continued walking, the sound of quiet footsteps reached her ears signifying Meggie was following after her.

As Rosanna ducked into her room, she gestured for Meggie to follow her instead of going to her own room. There was no way she would be able to sleep with all these questions floating around in her head now. Maybe Meggie knew what they were talking about or at least they could talk it over and try to figure it out.

"Bed!" came Mo's voice again. He must have decided it had taken her too long to close her door again.

"I'm going!" Rosanna called in return, not even bothering to hide the disappointment in her voice. Why didn't he just tell her what was going on? He never hid things. They all told each other everything. They always had.

"How could you do this?" came the barely audible voice of the stranger as Rosanna ushered Meggie into her room, shutting the door for only a moment before slowly opening it again to allow the sound of the two men's voices to drift in. There was something seriously wrong, she knew that, and she had to know what it was. "How could you knowingly and willingly keep a father from his daughter, with the knowledge that she was all he had in this world?"

"I waited for you to come back," snapped Mo in a voice Rosanna and Meggie had never heard from him before. Was it anger? Fear? A mixture of both? "I waited for months, but you didn't show! I let her become my daughter too. I let myself love her. I'm the one who sat with her for hours because she would scream for you and her mother when I tried to put her down for bed. I'm the one who would have to calm her down when she would just randomly start crying, no doubt for you too. I took care of her when she got sick. I sat in the hospital when nurses were telling me it was more serious than I thought. I'm the one who helped her with her homework or when some of the school kids got to be too mean. I'm the one who stayed and loved her and raised her. I'm her father now, Dustfinger, and that's all she knows."

Both girls stepped away from the door, eyes wide as they glanced at each other. What did the stranger mean by keeping a father from his daughter? And what did Mo mean by letting her become his daughter too? They both knew… but neither wanted to admit it.

"You left. Two years you were gone. She had forgotten about you by then, you know. While you were off who knows where, I raised her. I watched her grow up."

The next voice was the stranger's, sounding a little different like he was speaking through his teeth.

"I didn't have a choice," he said. "Capricorn and Basta dragged me off and by the time I escaped and finally made it back to your house, you had disappeared. With _my_ daughter. And you kept moving every time I got so close to finding you. I tried so hard and I'll keep trying until she's mine again."

"That's not going to happen," said Mo, hostility eminent in his tone. He almost sounded as though he was ready to hit the other man, but Mo wouldn't do that…right? "Do you think she'd even go with you? She doesn't know you. She doesn't even know about _Inkheart._ Do you honestly think she would believe you over what I've told her? It's hopeless, Dustfinger. Just give up and go."

Rosanna moved closer to the door once again, wanting to hear every word they said; wanting so desperately to understand what exactly was going on. There was a long pause after Mo's words and Rosanna found herself holding her breath. Part of her wanted him to leave and take the confusing words that had been spoken tonight away with him so she'd never have to think of them again. She didn't like what they suggested at all. It would mean Mo didn't tell them everything like he said, it would mean he lied, and it would mean she could no longer trust her own father. If he even was her father.

"Fine," said the other man, voice softer but still so hostile. "I'll go. But I swear to you, Silvertongue, I will be back for Rosanna."

Rosanna barely registered his footsteps as he walked out of her house or the click of the door as Mo shut and locked it behind him. _I will be back for Rosanna._ Slowly she backed away from the door, staring at it as though it had suddenly transformed into the monsters of her nightmares, before she all of a sudden turned and hurried across the room to press her face against the cool glass of the window, watching, as if in a daze, the strange man as he walked away, but his words did not follow him like she had wished. Instead, they stayed stuck in her head, playing over and over again.

 _A father from a daughter. All he had left in this world. With my daughter. I will be back for Rosanna._

They had been talking about her, but what exactly had they meant? She felt as though her head were spinning as she sat at her window. What was going on? It was really terrifying her and she felt tears well up in her eyes, blurring her vision. She would have started crying right then and there if it wasn't for the black van that pulled up just then, capturing her attention and turning her thoughts away from the argument she'd just witnessed. Several men came out, each one armed with at least a gun.

"Mo!" called Rosanna, tilting her head just slightly as though she were trying to look over her shoulder at the door and keep her eyes on the men below at the same time. "Mo, there's more!"

"Go to bed, Rosanna!" came his voice, muffled by the distance between them and the almost closed door. He must have stayed downstairs.

"But there are more people outside, Mo! Five of them and they're all dressed in black and have guns! I'm getting really scared now!"

She got nothing in reply for a short moment, but with her adrenaline high and fear clouding her thoughts, it felt like so much longer.

"Listen, Rosanna," he said, voice a little quieter and sounding a bit tight now. He sounded almost as scared as she felt. "You and Meggie hide somewhere, okay, and no matter what, don't come out."

"But…" she went to argue, but once again he cut her off.

'Now, Rosanna! Just do what I told you, okay?"

At Mo's words, Meggie hurried forward, wrapping her fingers around her sister's wrist and pulling her to the other side of her bed. Rosanna let Meggie lead her into hiding; let her pull her down to sit against the wall where no one would be able to see them, at least not by glancing through the door. Through the foggy feeling fear put in her mind, she barely noticed the way Meggie wrapped her arm around her or the way she leaned into the gesture as she curled her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. Sitting here behind the bed, her fear only grew and though she had tried so very hard not to cry, a few tears slipped down her cheeks and she had to press her hands to her mouth to stifle the quiet sobs that escaped her lips.

The sound of glass breaking and the men's footsteps as they entered the house reached the two girl's ears but the sounds of their voices were more muffled than the voice of the stranger. Judging by the direction of their footsteps, Rosanna guessed they had gone into the spare room by the living area downstairs that Mo used as his workshop.

They could only hear a few misplaced words clearly enough to make them out: Silvertongue… something about a book… Capricorn… She heard laughter and not the happy kind that always made her smile along even when she wasn't feeling particularly like smiling. No, this kind was mocking and full of malice. These people most definitely did not come here for a cup of tea and a nice chat. No, these people had much darker motives and Mo knew it. But what could they possibly want from them? Mo had always told the two girls no robbers would ever invade their house because they had nothing to steal.

Suddenly, a man's voice became much clearer as the sound of footsteps grew louder once more. "Grab the reader," he said. "I'm sure Capricorn will be pleased to see him."

There was a struggle. She could hear the footsteps, hear the sounds of Mo fighting against the grips of the others, and hear the sound of the men trying to hold onto him. A dull _thwack_ filled the air for only a second before the sounds stopped. The struggle was over and from the sound of the man's voice still floating up to meet her ears and fill her heart and mind with a fear she could not chase away in this moment, she knew that it was Mo who had lost. That it was Mo they had lost.

The noises stopped altogether with the sound of car doors and the low hum of the van's engines. Neither one of them knew exactly why they had referred to their father as 'the reader', but it could only be Mo who they were talking about and it was clearly him whom they had taken. All at once the two girls realized they were alone; terribly alone with nothing but the sounds of Rosanna's cries and the gentle fall of rain on their window to keep them company as their young minds tried so desperately to process what had just happened and the fear that came with it. A fear neither of them had ever known.


	3. A Secret Revealed

Chapter 2

A Secret Revealed

Dustfinger hunched his shoulders against the rain, standing in the dark shadows of a few trees across the street as he watched the five dark figures move towards the house, wincing at the sound of shattered glass before the men made their way inside. He ran his hands along his jacket as he waited for the group to come back out, wishing the fire in this world would obey him as it had back home, even in the worst of storms or coldest of nights.

After only a few moments, two of Capricorn's men exited the house, another figure slumped between them. Silvertongue must have put up a fight, he thought as he watched them load the unconscious man into the back of the van, the three others, led by who was sure to be Basta, following close behind.

For a moment, he tensed, afraid for the safety of not only his own child but also the one that did not belong to him, especially with the thought that Basta had been so close. But he immediately relaxed at the recollection of the deal that had been made. Surely, the girls had been unharmed, just as he'd been promised. He wouldn't know for sure, however, unless he checked himself; something he found himself almost afraid of. This would be the closest he had been to his daughter in four years and he wasn't sure what her reaction would be to him showing up so suddenly after the abduction of the man she believed to be her father, especially after their argument.

He forced himself to wait until the van had reached the end of the deserted country road before slowly stepping out of the shadows, back into the drizzling rain, though he hardly even noticed it as he made his way quickly across the street. The door had been left ajar, none of Capricorn's men caring to close it when they'd left. He paused outside for only an instant before slowly stepping in and closing the door behind him with a quiet click.

He made his way quietly throughout the first floor of the house, only taking a moment to discover that no one was on this level. He turned his attention to the stairs leading to the second floor; the girls must have been hiding upstairs during the time that the Black Jackets had taken Mo, allowing Dustfinger to release a sigh of relief that they hadn't been downstairs to witness the scene that he'd played a part in.

As he reached the top of the stairs, he called both of the girls' names softly, not wanting to startle them if he happened upon them before they came out of their hiding place - if they even chose to. He was suddenly very thankful that he'd paid attention to the name Silvertongue called his own daughter, hoping that it would help them to trust him a bit more, though he wasn't sure how much good it would do.

Hearing no response, Dustfinger paused and let his gaze sweep along the empty hallway as he tried to think of a way to earn the girls' trust, but he immediately decided that had he been in their place, he wouldn't even trust himself. Still, he had to try.

"I'm not going to hurt you, I swear," he said softly, his eyes wandering from door to door, searching for any sign of where they were.

He'd almost decided to begin searching each room when he heard the soft sounds of movement coming from one of the rooms a few feet down the hall. He carefully walked over to the door and hesitated a moment before slowly pushing it the rest of the way open and stepping into the near pitch dark room. His gaze traveled across the room before landing in the far corner on the other side of the bed where two pairs of eyes stared up at him fearfully.

Dustfinger frowned worriedly as Rosanna, his Rosanna, only met his gaze for an instant before ducking behind the bed with a small gasp, her loose curls flying up for a moment before they settled back against her shoulders. Silvertongue's girl did nothing but stare silently, her back pressed as far into the corner as she could while still keeping her hand on the younger girl beside her, though how Dustfinger even noticed that while keeping his eyes on his own daughter, he didn't know.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said again, softer this time as he took a few steps to reach the other side of the bed, though he kept to the end of it. He could see they were already fearful enough of the stranger who they'd been left alone with; he wasn't about to make it worse by getting any closer to them. "I just wanted to make sure you were safe. Those men can cause quite a fright."

Now that the moonlight was beginning to shine through the window, he could see the tears shining on his daughter's cheeks, the look of utter terror that was aimed in his direction nearly causing him to wince, though he was able to conceal it at the last second. When their eyes met, her gaze held not even an ounce of recognition nor any of the love and adoration that that sweet face had once held whenever she was with him. No, instead she looked at him as if he were one of Capricorn's fire raisers or even a Night-Mare.

Though the look on her face seemed to be silently screaming at him to leave and never come back, and to bring the man she believed to be her father back to her first, he slowly crouched down to sit on his heels so that he was eye level with the two girls, hoping to lessen their fear of him by not towering over them. He suddenly remembered the precious item that he'd so carefully kept safe since he'd found it abandoned seven years ago; the doll that had never left the inner pocket of his jacket once, tucked carefully beside the picture of a very small three-year-old with curly black ringlets that didn't even reach her shoulders.

"I have something that belongs to you," he said softly as he slowly pulled the doll from his pocket and held it out to Rosanna. "I believe you lost it quite a while ago, but I assumed you would want it back anyway."

Rosanna's expression immediately changed from terror to bewilderment as her eyes landed on the small doll in his hand. Even though it was obvious that it held a very special place in her heart just from the way she looked at it, he doubted that she knew just how special this doll was. She had no way of knowing that the doll had been carefully made by Roxane on the nights she'd stayed up with Rosanna as a newborn, no way of knowing that the dress the doll wore was made of scraps of strolling players' clothing, including some of the material that had been used to make both his fire eating costume and one of Roxane's favorite dresses. Oh, how he wished she remembered those little details. Though, he would have just been happy if she still remembered him.

Even so, the young girl stretched her arm out as far as she could so that she wouldn't have to get too close to him and quickly snatched the doll from his hand, holding it tight against her chest as she backed up beside her sister once more. She finally tore her gaze away from him to look down at the doll in her hands, running her fingers along the fabric of the dress for a moment before looking back up at him warily.

"Where did you get this?" she asked quietly, the shakiness in her voice showing how fearful she still was.

"I've had it with me for a very long time," he replied, keeping his voice soft in the hopes that he wouldn't upset her even more than she already was. "I would've given it to you sooner, but Silvertongue wasn't very happy with the idea of you meeting me."

He'd already decided that he would be completely honest with her about anything she asked. And if one thing was certain in this situation, it was that he would never refer to Silvertongue as Rosanna's father, even if his daughter didn't believe him at first.

He sat silently as the younger girl's eyes trailed over his face, examining the scars on his face, the clothing he wore. She looked as if she was trying so hard to remember if they'd ever met before, though she obviously remembered nothing from her past with her real family.

"Why?" she asked hesitantly after a moment. "And who is Silvertongue?"

Why… that right there was a question he'd been ready to answer for the past seven years. Why did the man she believed to be her father not want him near her? But for some reason he couldn't quite explain, he hesitated to answer. This was his chance to reveal who he was, and maybe, hopefully, get his daughter back. But at the same time, his words would destroy her entire world in an instant, and she'd actually begun to calm down. But he couldn't lie. He couldn't come up with another explanation for who he was. Not after trying so hard to get his little one back for the past nine years, ever since the moment they'd been separated. He needed her back in his life so badly, and she needed to know the truth, no matter how this ended.

"Well… you call him Mo," he said finally, hating the word the moment it escaped his lips, even if it did help him avoid the first question. "I call him Silvertongue though because he's… very good with words, to say the least."

"Good with words?" Rosanna asked, confusion filling her tone as she looked over at Meggie. It was obvious she had no idea what the man who'd raised her for nine years was capable of, though that was really no surprise considering the great lengths Silvertongue had gone to hide everything about Rosanna's old life from her.

The older girl said nothing in response, not moving her gaze from Dustfinger for even a second. Distrust seemed to radiate from the girl in waves, making it increasingly difficult for Dustfinger to meet her gaze as he opened his mouth to continue, though he did manage it.

"Has your father ever read you a bedtime story before, Meggie?" he asked, aiming this question towards the young blond girl, refusing to refer to Silvertongue as such to anyone but the man's true daughter.

"A bedtime story?" Rosanna's soft voice filled the silence once more as she looked from him to Meggie once more, her confusion obviously worsening with each word that was spoken.

"What does that have to do with you helping to kidnap our father?" the older girl asked in response, avoiding his question with one of her own.

Dustfinger was so taken aback by her words for a moment that he couldn't speak. He was lucky that he could reveal only the emotions he wished to in situations like this, otherwise, his role in Silvertongue's kidnapping would have been fully revealed. She couldn't possibly know that he actually had something to do with it; it had to be just a fearful suspicion that came from the two events timed so quickly together. If he tried hard enough, he should be able to convince the both of them to trust him, even if he didn't quite deserve it just yet.

"You think that I helped kidnap your father?" he asked, trying to sound as incredulous as he could. He silently thanked the night for hopefully concealing that he couldn't meet either set of eyes that were trained on him. "I had nothing to do with that."

Unfortunately, the moon still provided just enough light to reveal the expression of his daughter, slowly transforming from confusion to something almost like fearful hostility. He silently cursed the older girl's accusations, hating that any of the calming that Rosanna had begun to feel had been immediately extinguished by her supposed sister's words. He looked at her almost sadly as he watched her curl her legs up to her chest even closer, clutching her doll tightly as she looked at him through suspicious dark eyes.

"You had to have done it," she said, though he could tell from her voice that her hostility had just been a face that she'd put on to cover her fears, just as he sometimes did. She couldn't even look at him as she spoke such painful accusations. "We heard you arguing. You said you would be back… for - for me. Then those men came and now our dad is gone. He's gone and it's your fault, isn't it?"

Dustfinger leaned back, feeling as if each word, the shaking of her hands, her voice, physically pained him. As her words began to sink in, however, he realized that if she'd heard every word of the argument earlier that night then perhaps it would be easier for her to believe his words than he'd thought. He just had to make sure he said it as carefully as he could.

"He's not who you think he is, little one," he began, watching her the entire time. "And I'm not who you think I am."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Meggie interrupted, still glaring at him as she wrapped her arm tighter around Rosanna. "Mo is our father and you're one of the men who took him away from us. There's no other explanation for that."

He shook his head as his gaze flickered over to Meggie for only an instant. She was making this more difficult than he would've liked. There was no way he could ease carefully into this conversation anymore. If he was going to say it, it would have to be now.

"He is your father, yes," he replied softly before his gaze shifted back to the young dark-haired girl in front of him. "But… he isn't Rosanna's."


	4. A New World

Chapter 3

A New World

There was a long moment of silence as Dustfinger's words hung in the air between them. Meggie just stared incredulously as if he'd just said she'd suddenly grown a second head, instead of the truth his words conveyed. Rosanna's eyes were wide as she stared at him, meeting his gaze completely for the first time. For the longest time, she just stared, mouth slightly open, her eyes conveying so much fear and confusion. Finally, she shook her head slowly, keeping her eyes on him as they filled with denial.

"N - no," she said, her voice raising in pitch. "You're - you're lying. You just want us to trust you. You're just trying to take us… me… too. Just like you took Mo."

"I would never do anything to hurt you, Rosanna," he argued, looking at her almost pleadingly as he struggled to explain. He'd already said what should have been the hardest part. It should have been so simple to continue now. "I'd die before I let anything happen to you. I promise you little one, I'm telling the truth."

He could do nothing but watch as she dropped her doll into her lap to press her hands tightly over her ears, closing her eyes as if she could block out his words and all of the confusion they brought her.

"Mo's my father," she whispered. "He always has been. There hasn't been anyone else. I don't even know you…"

Dustfinger sighed, closing his eyes as well as her words burrowed their way into his heart as if to stay there and remind him of the past forever. If only Silvertongue had let him visit. He wouldn't have taken her away, at least not right away; he would have waited until he had a place to stay and a proper way to take care of her and support her that didn't involve performing whenever he could in a town square, even if that was the only thing in this world that he actually knew how to do. At least she would have known him. He would have gone to the ends of this world to have Rosanna know him. He still would.

"I know you don't. And I'm so sorry for that. I tried to see you so many times over all of this time, but Silvertongue wouldn't let me. He was afraid that I would take you away from him."

Suddenly it seemed as if everything had come crashing down upon the young girl. She leaned forward so that her head was resting against her knees, her breaths quickening as Meggie rubbed her back with obvious concern. Dustfinger almost put a hand out to his daughter but stopped as he watched how upset she was. He hated seeing her so panicked, but he didn't want to make it worse with a gesture that he wasn't sure would be entirely welcome right now. Oh, what he wouldn't do to take away all of her confusion and pain about this situation.

Rosanna lifted her head after a moment, tears running down her cheeks as she looked at him once more. "Why? Why would he do that?"

"I was taken by the same people who took Silvertongue when you were very little, not even one," he began with a sigh, shifting so that he was sitting on the floor in front of them. "I was able to get away from them eventually, but when I finally found the house where I'd last seen you, it was empty. The people who lived next door said that the family that lived there had moved suddenly, taking you with him.

It took me two years to find you again because he kept moving the three of you around, trying to hide from the men who had taken me. And over those two years, he grew very close to you. He refused to even let me near you."

He paused, looking down for a moment before his gaze moved back up to his daughter. "You were very sick when I found you that time. I couldn't have taken you with me even if Silvertongue had been willing to let me. And even though he promised that I could come check on you a few days later to make sure you were alright, you were gone when I came back."

He stopped there, wanting to let her process everything he'd already said instead of throwing everything he wanted to say at her all at once. From her expression, he could tell she was trying to remember back that far, but there was no possible way that she could. She'd been so young, and so sick. He'd been worried sick for years after they'd disappeared, not knowing if she'd lived or died. He wished there was a way to comfort her, but he wasn't the one who'd comforted her for nine years. No, that job had been taken up by another man, one who had taken Rosanna away though he had no right to. He felt a pang of jealousy as he imagined all of the things, the good and the bad, that Silvertongue had gotten to do while he himself had been trying so hard to get his daughter back.

"He lied to me," came Rosanna's soft voice as she looked over at the girl who she'd believed to be her sister for so long. "He lied to us. He promised he'd tell us everything, but everything's been a huge lie."

Both of the girls' expressions held such terrible confusion. It was obvious they were no longer sure which man was to be believed; the one who had raised them, or the one who sat in front of them now. Meggie just shook her head wordlessly in response to the younger girl's words. Dustfinger doubted whether she could even remember a time when Rosanna wasn't with them.

"Is my name even Rosanna?" she asked almost under her breath, eyes meeting his as she leaned back against the wall. "Am I even ten?"

Oh, his poor little one. In that moment, he truly began to wonder if this had been the right decision, if he should have just let her live with the belief that she belonged to another family instead of questioning everything she was. But it was too late to question such things now. And he knew that he would never have been able to live with himself if he knowingly and willingly allowed her to be separated from him for the rest of his life. So he gave her a small smile, one he hoped conveyed just how much he cared for her.

"Both of those things are true," he said softly. "You've been Rosanna since the day you were born ten years ago."

He watched as she closed her eyes, sighing quietly in relief. When she opened them again, she carefully picked the doll back up, running her fingers over the fabric once again. He could tell from her expression that she was realizing so many of the things he'd said so far were adding up to the truth. But he could also see the helplessness at the situation that was beginning to take over.

"You've had that doll practically since the day you were born too, you know," he murmured as he watched her, hoping he could get her mind off of all of her worries for a moment. "Even as a baby, you absolutely refused to go anywhere without it."

"Really?" she looked up at him once more, slight surprise in her expression.

Dustfinger only nodded in response at first, memories of their family all together and happy playing through his mind. Memories of Brianna running around the camp laughing, Rosanna trying to crawl after her before he would pick her up and carry her while they chased Brianna. Whether they were running or even just sitting and playing together, Rosanna had always had her doll with her, no matter what.

"It was in my bag the night we got separated," he said finally. "I suppose I must have left it here."

Everything was silent for a moment - even the rain seemed to have ceased for the time being - as Rosanna stared at him, eyes wide as she began to take in what he'd said. Her gaze slid towards the window seat behind him before looking back at him, bewilderment filling her expression once more.

"It's yours?" she asked almost incredulously.

His eyebrows raised in surprise as he quickly glanced behind him, eyes landing on the dark leather bag that he'd had ever since he was young. It had been the bag he'd always carried during his days as a fire-eater, holding the few things he'd needed for performances. The last time he'd seen it, it had also contained many of the things he'd needed for an overnight trip in the Wayless Wood with Brianna and Rosanna, including Rosanna's doll. He'd honestly believed that it had been thrown away after Silvertongue had decided to keep Rosanna.

"I'm surprised he let you keep that," he said softly.

"He didn't at first," she replied, her gaze moving back to the bag. "I kept sneaking it back and hiding it, though, until he just decided to let me. I liked the stuff inside and making up stories about where it came from. He never would tell me."

"I can tell you about the things inside sometime if you'd like," he offered with a small smile, hoping this would be a way for her to allow some trust in him.

She stared at him for a long moment, tears drying on her cheeks now that she'd stopped crying, before giving a small nod.

"Okay," she said hesitantly before glancing at Meggie questioningly as if wondering if it was alright. When the older girl gave her a nod with a small smile, she turned back to Dustfinger a bit more confidently this time and nodded once more. "Okay, that'd be nice."

"Alright," he agreed with a nod in return, a small smile coming to his face once more. "We'll do that soon."

Rosanna only nodded, looking down to run her fingers over the doll she hadn't had in her possession in seven years. A long few moments passed in silence before she looked over at Meggie, worry filling her gaze once more.

"What are we going to do now?" she asked, her voice almost as soft as a whisper.

Meggie frowned as she looked down at the floor for a moment before looking back up at Dustfinger, determination in her gaze as she spoke. "Do you know where they took our - my father?"

He hesitated a moment before giving a slow, reluctant nod. He didn't want to tell them this, didn't want to introduce even the chance of them getting hurt, but he also didn't want to lie to them right after he'd begun to gain at least Rosanna's trust. "There's a place down south that they run. They're most likely taking him there."

Meggie leaned forward eagerly, her expression growing more hopeful at his words. "Well, if you know where it is, then you can take us to get him back."

He was already shaking his head before the words had finished leaving her mouth. "Even if I was willing to walk back into Capricorn's village - which I am not," he began, "I have no way of getting there unless we walked. Not to mention that would include steering two children right into danger when I don't even want to steer myself into it. And there is no way that is happening."

He knew what would happen if they ended up back in that village, especially if they were caught trying to help Silvertongue escape. He was already much too familiar with the consequences of disobeying Capricorn's orders or even just getting on any of the black jackets' bad sides.

"We don't have to walk," Rosanna chimed in hopefully. "Mo has a car and I know where he keeps the keys. You can just drive that. I'm sure he won't mind."

"I highly doubt he'd want someone who doesn't know how to drive using his car, little one," he said with another shake of his head. "Especially with the two of you in the back seat."

"You can't drive?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

"Where you and I are from, people don't even have cars, much less know how to drive them," he explained with a small shrug. "And I never felt compelled to learn once I came to live here."

"Where I'm from…" she said the words as if she really couldn't comprehend that she was from another place, much less one that didn't have cars - something so common in this world.

Dustfinger sighed as he watched her trying to understand everything she'd just been told. It would be a lot take in even without the other events that had occurred that evening. "I'm sorry for throwing all of this at you at once, little one."

Rosanna only shook her head in response, quickly dismissing his words for the moment as she looked back at Meggie. "We can call Aunt… or, I guess, just Elinor… She has a car and she can drive."

Meggie thought for a moment before nodding. "That could work," she said slowly. "I'll have to find her number… and then actually talk to her and try to explain all of this. If she'll listen, that is."

"I'm sure she'll come if we tell her a book was involved, whether she understands what's going on or not," Rosanna nodded. "She'd probably have no problems driving us too if it's to get the book."

"Oh definitely," Meggie agreed. "I think Elinor would do anything to save a book. And I'm sure she would come for Mo too…"

"I'm sure she would," Rosanna said. "She might be kind of… mean, at times, but she does love us. I think."

Seeing the worry on both of the young girls' faces, Dustfinger couldn't help but give in, at least for now. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt," he said reluctantly. "But it's too late to be thinking too much of it now. I'm sure you'll be able to think about it better once you've had some sleep. Is it alright with you two if I stay downstairs?"

"That's okay, I guess," Rosanna replied, glancing at her sister for confirmation once more. When Meggie nodded in silent agreement, though she still looked cautious of the man sitting before them, Rosanna turned back to face him before adding, "There's a guest bedroom down there if you want to stay there."

Dustfinger gave them a small smile as he slowly stood up, wishing he could talk to his daughter more, but knowing it would be best to give her her space for now. "Thank you. Are you alright up here for yourselves?"

Rosanna's only response was to give a few quick nods, her eyes never leaving him as he moved. She made no move of her own to stand, instead staying in the corner of her room as Meggie hesitated a moment before wrapping an arm around her.

Dustfinger watched Rosanna for only a moment longer before slowly turning and leaving the room, making his way silently down the hall to the top of the stairs. As he put his foot on the first step, he could hear the soft whispers of the two girls talking, though he couldn't make out what they said. He could tell that it only lasted a moment though before the sound of soft footsteps padding across the hall followed him down the stairs, quickly proceeded by the quiet snap of a door closing.

He quickly descended the rest of the steps, pausing at the bottom for a moment to look around in search of the extra bedroom that Rosanna had said was located there. It didn't take long for him to find it, the room being one of the only ones that was almost completely void of books - a shocking thing in this house.

He hesitated in the doorway for a moment before slowly making his way inside, looking around as he sat on the edge of the bed. He hadn't been in a room like this since he was a child, living with the Prince and the Barn Owl in the Infirmary before they'd joined the Motley Folk. Since then, he'd almost always slept underneath the stars or, at the most, a tent or abandoned house. Even though he still slept outside most nights in this world, it had taken him so long to get used to being alone. Not surrounded by the other Motley Folk with Roxane close beside him and both of their girls on top of them, the only sounds the soft breathing of the others or the occasional murmur of whispered conversations, but on his own, surrounded by nothing but air and the terrible, loud noises that invaded the peace of the night.

At the memories of his family as it used to be, Dustfinger reached into the collar of his shirt, his fingers wrapping around the string resting against his neck and carefully pulling until a small pendant was resting in the palm of his hand.

He took a deep breath as he looked down at it, running his thumb gently across its surface. Closing his eyes, he struggled to remember the figure that had given it to him. Even after all these years, he could vividly remember the action of putting the necklace over his head each time he left for a performance, the words saying to let it remind him to come home to his family. But the features grew just a bit blurrier with each attempt to remember them, the beautiful lilting voice just a bit fainter.

He thought of Roxane and Brianna so often, and yet they continued to fade from his memories. He prayed every day that Brianna was safe and hadn't been hurt after he and Rosanna had been snatched from their world. She'd been left all alone in the Wayless Wood, without any of their supplies, and it had been so cold that night. But there was no way for him to know if she was okay, no way to know if she'd gotten back to Roxane. For all he knew, Roxane had lost her husband and both of their daughters - one of which couldn't possibly return.

So instead of worrying so much about the things he couldn't control, he'd tried his hardest to focus all of his attention on getting Rosanna back. At least he could make sure one of his babies was safe. And he had. After so many years, he'd finally found her.

"I found her, Roxane," he whispered, so quietly that he almost wasn't speaking at all. His eyes were still closed, struggling to imagine that he was truly talking to the woman he'd loved for the past sixteen years. "Our Rosie is ten now. She's just as beautiful as you are. I swear she gets more and more beautiful with each passing year. Oh, I wish you could see her, my love."

He didn't even know if there was a way for them to get back to their world, but he would have to focus on that later. His first priority was getting his daughter back. Even though he'd found Rosanna, it didn't mean she trusted him or would want to go with him. Even after she understood everything that had happened, she could still choose to stay with the man who'd raised her, no matter that he'd practically kidnapped her. She didn't know Dustfinger, couldn't even remember ever seeing him before. Even if he did love her more than his own life, it didn't mean she would love him back. He just had to pray that he would be able to earn her love and trust, even it took some time. But for now, he was too relieved that he'd finally found her - finally found his little one - to worry about such things tonight.


	5. Raindrops and Remembrances

**A/N: Hey guys! The end of the school year has been kind of crazy for us so we finished this chapter a little late. :P Sorry about that, but we hope you enjoy!**

Chapter 4

Raindrops and Rememberances

Soft, muffled footsteps made their way into Dustfinger's conscious, shattering his memories like a million rocks hitting a pane of glass. He'd been so close that time; Brianna and Roxane had been just outside of his mind's reach, their friends just a short distance behind, waiting for him to welcome them back into his thoughts once more. Just a few more moments and he surely would have been able to see them again.

It wasn't until the footsteps shuffled past the guest room's door that his head flew up, brow creasing as he realized that at least one of the girls was up. Hours must have passed by now, though it felt as if he'd only just sat down on the edge of the bed. Why would either of the girls come down here, even if they weren't asleep? He hadn't been expecting to see even a trace of them until the morning, sure that they would try to avoid him as much as possible. Unless…

No. He could still hear the rain pounding angrily at the rooftop, though the wind had seemed to calm some. They wouldn't possibly be foolish enough to try running away in this weather, or worse yet, run after Silvertongue - would they?

The soft creak of a door swiftly made his decision for him, his body rising to stand before his thoughts could catch up. Please no, he begged silently as he slowly stepped towards the door. He couldn't lose her again, not after just finding her.

His fingers curled carefully around the door handle, turning it and pulling the door open as softly as he could so as not to startle whoever was outside. His muscles tensed as his gaze found the front door wide open, the sounds of the rain much louder in this room as light sprays of water spattered the threshold, but he relaxed almost just as quickly as he spotted the small form sitting on the step, her face lifted to the breeze as it blew her dark curls gently.

Though his heart screamed at him that this was a chance for him to gain his daughter's trust, he fought the urge to disrupt her, instead glancing back towards the empty bedroom, contemplating letting her be after all that had happened tonight. But just as he was turning back, a small, faint glow caught his eye, drawing his attention to the flame no bigger than one's fingertip as it whispered its strange, tempting words, piquing his curiosity enough to change his mind.

"Careful," he whispered, taking a small step towards her, though he made sure not to get too close. The last thing he wanted was to scare her. "The fire likes to bite if not handled with care."

He nearly flinched himself as Rosanna whipped around with a jump, expression holding every bit of surprise she surely felt. For a moment, she only stared at him, as if not sure what to make of him, but eventually she leaned back against the doorframe, if not a bit stiffer than before. Her gaze traveled back down to the match flickering between her fingers.

"I know," she responded with a small shrug. "I've been playing with the fire for awhile. Though… Mo always told me not to."

She shot him a quick glance as she said Silvertongue's true name as if afraid of what Dustfinger would do if she said it too loudly.

He only nodded thoughtfully for a moment as he watched the flame flicker in the darkness leaking in from the outside.

"Well I suppose part of that is reasonable," he said, taking another step closer. "You have to know exactly how to handle the flame in order to keep it from biting you. Though another part of his argument may be because of me, and that's not nearly as reasonable, in my opinion."

He leaned forward and gently took the match from between her fingers, quickly but gently running a finger almost lovingly through the flame before glancing at her.

"All you have to do is make sure you know how to treat it. If you do that, you will have gained a very valuable friend and ally."

With these last words, he lifted the match to his mouth as her gaze met his and pursed his lips around the match, immediately extinguishing the flame as quickly as it had been started.

"You just… You put it in your mouth…"

A soft chuckle escaped his lips where a flame had just been only seconds ago as Rosanna's eyes widened, her body leaning forward a bit as her gaze traveled over his features as if searching for the injury such an action must have caused. But soon enough, she realized that there was nothing to be seen. Nothing but the spent match Dustfinger still held in his hand and the clever smile on his lips.

"Now, I wouldn't suggest trying that yourself just yet," he said. "The fire can get very upset if you don't show it respect by learning how it likes to be handled first."

"Respect the fire? It's not like it's a person…" Though her words had tried to convey the opinion of someone who knew about these types of things, her tone turned her statement into something more similarly recognized as a question.

Dustfinger tilted his head for a moment as his thoughts worked out a response. He carefully lowered himself to sit down on the other side of the open doorway from his daughter, leaning his back against the wall as he rested his forearms against his knees, fingers playing with the spent match still in his grasp.

"Not a person, no," he conceded after a moment. "But it's still quite nearly a living thing. If you listen close enough, you can hear its secret language, understand its moods - whether it's playful or angry."

"But it can't have a secret language. It can't talk. It's just… fire."

"There are many things that aren't what they seem at first, Rosanna." He smiled as he looked up at her. Oh, if she only knew what the fire could do in their world. Though, was it really still her world if she hadn't been in it since she was barely a year old? Doubt suddenly began to cloud his thoughts, the smile vanishing from his face as quickly as it had appeared as he looked back at his hands. He could still hear the tension in her voice and see it in her posture. She'd already been through so much tonight, was it really a good idea to confuse her even more than she already was?

"Well," he said, moving to stand. "I'm sure you'd like to be left alone after every-"

"Tell me what's true." Rosanna blinked a second after the words left her mouth as if she herself wasn't quite sure where they'd come from. She seemed to make a split decision though when she saw that he'd stopped, looking at her with raised brows, and she plowed on, hurriedly, as if saying them before she became too afraid to. "About - about me, us. What about my life is actually true? How much of my life has just been lies that Mo came up with?"

Dustfinger could only look at her for a moment as he waited for the surprise of her words to wear off. She hadn't tried to shoo him off, hadn't even let him finish his sentence. Yes, surely, all she wanted was answers, but it was a step in the right direction, at least. So he settled back against the wall, resuming his previous action of twisting the match in his fingers.

"Us," he said softly, barely anything but a breath as it passed his lips tentatively. "I was beginning to think there would never be such a thing again.

I could start at the beginning, I suppose. You were born on a very rainy day - even worse than this - but you were like a perfect ray of sunshine to your mother and I. You came a bit sooner than we'd been expecting too, but it was alright; you and your mother were both safe and healthy and that was all we asked. And your sister, she could barely wait for the woman who helped us to leave before she got her hands on you, she was so excited to have a sibling."

Sometime during his story, a time in which his current surroundings had seemed to blur and merge with a distant, faded memory of another, much happier time, Rosanna had twisted in her place to sit with her feet propped in the doorway, back pressed against the door frame as she stared at him intently.

"I have a sister?" Her voice came softly once he'd finished, though it softened even more as she added, "And, a mother?"

Sorrow threatened to squeeze his heart until it burst upon hearing the way his daughter said the words as if she couldn't imagine what having a mother could even be like. But still, he forced a small smile as he gave a single nod.

"You have a sister named Brianna. She's about fifteen now. And your mother… Roxane. You look just like her, Rosie. Same black curls, dark eyes; same beautiful smile that can light up even the darkest of nights."

A smile slowly grew on Rosanna's face at his words. If she'd noticed the nickname he'd called her by, she didn't seem to care as a hand lifted to play with her loose curls.

"I look like my mother?"

"Yes." Only an instant passed before he laughed softly, glancing at her with a smile. "Though, if sitting outside playing with matches in the dead of night gives any indication to your personality, it seems your beauty is the only thing you gained from her instead of me."

"Only I don't put them in my mouth," she teased, though her smile seemed to grow a bit at the compliment. She paused as if to consider something before looking up at him once more and tilting her head slightly. "How did that not hurt you?"

"Oh, you just have to know the fire well enough, gain its trust." He gave a small shrug as if such a small trick was nothing to him. Which it wasn't, considering it had been one of the first things he'd learned. "That, and I've had lots of practice, so don't you go trying to do it yourself just yet."

"I won't," Rosanna promised with a quick shake of her head, though he could see in her eyes that the idea of attempting such a trick appealed to her.

She grew quiet for a moment, her gaze moving back to the dark shadows of the night outside before she looked back at him, a question in her dark eyes. "You said earlier that Mo might not have let me play with matches because of you. Why?"

Her question brought a smile to his lips. "Well, it's a bit too late to show you right now. But I promise I'll show you tomorrow night."

"You have to show me?" The curiosity that had at first been only in her gaze quickly spread to her other features. "You can't just tell me?"

"Well, it wouldn't be half as interesting if I just told you, little one," he said with a soft chuckle. "Trust me, you'll enjoy it much more if I show you."

"Okay…" She said the word slowly, giving him a sideways glance from her position on the doorstep.

"You'll just have to trust me. This is something you'll like, I promise."

She took a deep breath before nodding. "Okay. Does it have to do with the matches?"

"Somewhat," he nodded. "More with fire itself than anything though."

"I've always liked fire," she said softly as she turned away from him again. "Some of the kids at my old school used to make fun of me for it so I never told anyone when I came to this one. They said it was weird; adults said it was dangerous. But I never did anything wrong with it, I swear! I just like to look."

Her tone grew more and more defensive as she spoke as if she had to justify her actions to him when he was probably the only person in this world who understood.

"I just… I've always had these dreams, ever since I can remember."

Her hands gestured vaguely in the air in front of her, though Dustfinger wondered whether she even realized she was doing it as she continued.

"There are these - these flowers made of fire. But I can never see who makes them. I can't really picture them as well when I'm awake sometimes, but if I look at the fire for a little bit, I can picture them a little more clearly. And I've just thought maybe if I keep doing it, maybe I can see the person behind them. Maybe I can find that person and they can make the flowers for real."

Dustfinger could do nothing but stare as he listened to her words, their meaning slowing seeping into his raging thoughts. The fire flowers. She actually remembered something from her life in their world, and of all the things to remember, that was what her mind had chosen to cling to, even after all of these years.

She looked so confused as she looked back at him as if she had no idea why she'd suddenly told him any of what she'd just said. But there was also loneliness lurking behind the confusion; the look of a child who just wants to be accepted in a place where it's increasingly difficult to be herself.

"I tried asking Mo if we knew a person like that once, but he told me I was being silly. He said no one can make flowers out of fire and to forget about it; that it was just a dream. But I'm really not sure what to believe anymore."

"You're not silly, Rosanna," he said softly, shaking his head. He had to force away the resentment that rose in his heart at the effect Silvertongue's biting words had had on his daughter. "And you're not strange, either. I love the fire just as you do."

He paused to glance down at his hands, wishing fiercely that the fire obeyed him in this world as it had in the other. Just one flower; that was all he needed.

"I'm surprised you remember anything of that life," he whispered under his breath. "Much less something that seemed so unimportant then."

"What?" She tilted her head a bit closer, confusion and a bit of concern covering her features. "I couldn't hear you, the rain's getting louder."

Dustfinger forced a quick smile to his lips as he shook his head, hoping to clear away her worries. Even if she had heard him, she surely wouldn't have understood. Maybe, hopefully, his plan for the next night would help her to understand.

"I'll explain some other time," he promised.

For a moment she just watched him, the expression on her face showing just how much she doubted that he wasn't upset, but eventually, she leaned back against the doorframe and looked out at the rain once more. Only now did he notice the doll sitting in her lap, her fingers brushing over the soft, worn hair. He wondered if she'd let go of it for even an instant since he'd returned it to her.

"You can ask me questions too if you want," she said softly, eyes blinking heavily as if fighting off the beginnings of drowsiness. "I mean, if you really are my father, you must have questions too, right?"

Her question gave him pause as he pondered the answer. He'd never even considered asking her questions, sure that she wouldn't even want to speak a word to him, much less have a full conversation. As he thought about it though, one question made its way to the front of his mind. The only one that truly mattered to him, at least for tonight.

"Have you… been happy here?" he asked gently, almost afraid of how she would respond.

"I guess so," she nodded.

"What do you like to do now?" He voiced the first question that came to mind, though he wasn't sure why this was the next one he wanted to be answered. Perhaps it was just the need to get to know his daughter now that she had grown and changed so much that propelled these thoughts forward.

"Lots of things," she said. "I like to read sometimes, but not like Meggie and Mo. And I like to go outside a lot; climb trees, watch clouds.

Oh! I also like building forts in my room and gathering all my dolls and stuffed animals inside and acting out scenes from my book or the stories I make up. And I have a radio in my room that I dance to sometimes. That's really fun, too."

Dancing, climbing trees, playing with her toys. So many things that he'd missed out on; things she spoke of as if they were nothing, though they were so much more to him.

"It sounds like you have a lot of fun," he agreed. "I like being outside too. It usually feels too closed in inside for my taste."

"Mm-hmm," she nodded. "I like it better than inside too. Though Meggie won't come with me very often, and even if she does, she goes outside to read so I have to play by myself most of the time. But I don't mind too much."

"I know what it's like, having to be alone," he said softly, leaning his head back against the wall. "It's a good thing that you don't mind it very much. I never have quite been able to get used to it myself."

A soft breeze from the lightening rain outside sent shivers down his spine as it flowed through the open door. Glancing down, he realized that even though it had been hours since he'd been out in the rain, his clothes and hair were still damp from the heavy downpour. He was so used to just putting up with nature's ways that he hadn't thought about getting water inside the house; there were most likely quite a few puddles of water around the house now that he'd walked through it.

"If you're really my father, then you wouldn't really have to be alone anymore." The soft words startled him as if they'd been shouted from across the street rather than spoken softly from only a few feet away. He shot a disbelieving look in her direction as she continued, "You could stay with me now. Neither of us would have to be alone then, really."

"You'd want me to stay with you?" His voice sounded incredulous even to his own ears.

"Yeah," she nodded. "You're not as scary as I thought. You're kind of weird, like me. I like that. I haven't met someone kind of like me before."

A soft chuckle escaped his lips at her words. "I suppose I am a bit strange to you, aren't I? But you know, sometimes the best kinds of people are the ones who seem strange to everyone else."

The bright smile that had bloomed on her face in response to his laughter widened at his words.

"See, just like your mother," he said softly. "That smile could probably make the rain go away if it wanted to."

Just watching her smile over at him, eyes sparkling even in this dim light, brought back memories of the two they'd left behind. The memories were still faded around the edges, specific details hovering just out of his grasp, but if he tried hard enough, he could just picture his wife and eldest daughter by looking at Rosanna.

"Speaking of rain," she interrupted, a bright smile still on her lips, "you do know you're still wet, right?"

"I suppose I am," he agreed with a slight chuckle as he glanced down at himself. "I have to let it dry on its own though. I don't have anything else to wear."

"I think you and Mo might be almost the same size. You can borrow some of his clothes if you want until yours are dry."

Just the thought of wearing Silvertongue's clothes made Dustfinger cringe, but it would be nice to wear something warm and dry again. He thought it over for a moment before nodding.

"That would be nice."

"I'll go get them."

She tucked her doll beneath her arm before hopping up and running up the stairs. He could hear the soft creaks of the floor beneath her feet as she made her way throughout the upper level, obviously being careful not to wake Meggie in the nearby room.

He couldn't help the smile that crossed his lips as she came back into view, a neat stack of clothes resting atop a towel in her arms with her doll perched on top as if riding there. Nothing in this world had even been able to make him smile so easily; nothing except Rosanna.

"Thank you," he said gratefully as she handed him the neat pile before plucking her doll off the top.

"You're welcome. I brought you a towel too, so you can dry off."

"That was a good idea," he nodded, pushing himself to his feet. "I'll be back in a moment."

Rosanna nodded as she sat back down in the doorway. He watched for a moment as she gently placed her doll in her lap once more and wrapped her arms around it before turning back to his room. He quickly changed out of the damp clothes and draped them over the back of a chair to finish drying before putting on the new, dry ones. He wasn't used to this kind of clothing, but it certainly felt better to be warm and dry now.

When he stepped back into the main room, he caught sight of the sleepy way his daughter leaned against the doorway, a yawn on her lips as she looked over at him. At this hour, it was no wonder she was tired. He was surprised that she hadn't fallen asleep long ago during their conversation.

"They do fit," she mumbled, looking him over in his new attire.

"They do," he nodded, giving her another grateful smile. "Thank you again."

"You're welcome." She slid down a bit so that her head leaned against the doorway and moved her doll to rest on her stomach, propping it up against her bent knees. She seemed so much more relaxed now than she had when she'd first come down the stairs.

"Do you like having her back?" he asked, directing a nod towards the doll in her lap.

"Mm-hmm," she nodded sleepily. "I never meant to leave her behind."

"I didn't think you would. That's why I kept her with me until I could return her."

"Thank you." She paused to allow another yawn to escape before continuing, "I missed her."

"It was my pleasure. Your mother would be happy that you still have her."

A small smile crossed her lips as she looked down at the doll. She was quiet for a long moment until she suddenly looked up at him with a gaze overflowing with hope. "Can you tell me about her?"

"Of course." Warmth filled his chest as he eased back onto the floor, leaning his head back against the wall as he closed his eyes, struggling to unbury every memory of his wife that he could manage. "You already know that you like her; you both have black curls, bright smiles, and beautiful dark eyes. She has a beautiful voice; so beautiful that people would come from near and far to hear her sing. She would sing you and Brianna to sleep every night. She loves reading. She was teaching Brianna when our family was separated all those years ago. She would have taught you, too, once you were old enough.

But most of all, she loved you so much, Rosie. We were all so happy when we learned that she was going to have you. She would be so proud of you if she could see you now."

He kept his eyes closed for a moment longer, holding on to the memory of his love for as long as he possibly could before opening them, heart overflowing with longing for a woman, for a life, that he would most likely never have again.

Becoming increasingly aware of the silence that had blanketed the room, he glanced over to see the peaceful face of his daughter, sound asleep in the doorway, arms holding her doll close even in sleep. Watching her, a new sort of hope began to overtake the longing in his heart. He may not be able to have his old life back completely, but at least he had his little one back again. He knew she wouldn't trust him completely just yet, but she was at least giving him a chance, and that was more than he'd begun to think was possible.

He slowly rose to his feet and walked over to her, bending down to gently scoop her into his arms before straightening up. He gently nudged the front door closed with his foot, glancing down quickly to make sure she didn't wake at the soft click of the latch, but the child didn't even stir as he moved toward the stairs.

He began making his way carefully up the steps, making sure not to jostle Rosanna. He would hate it if he woke her up after it had taken so long for her to fall asleep in the first place. He froze as she began to stir about halfway up the stairs. Though her eyes remained closed, her breathing deep and steady, she snuggled closer against him, her hand drifting up to brush her fingers across his cheek, as if it was a habit her subconscious had picked up on.

He closed his eyes until her hand drifted back down to her stomach, memories from so long ago drifting back. She'd been just a baby the last time her small fingers had run along his face. Not only that but the last time he'd seen her repeat the action, it had been in Silvertongue's arms, not his, that she'd gained comfort from.

Only a few seconds passed before he opened his eyes again and resumed his ascent to the next floor. He carried her carefully into her room and set her gently on her bed, making sure the doll was still in her arms before pulling the blankets up over her.

He sat on the edge of her bed for a moment, eyes taking in every feature and committing it to memory, just in case. Finally, he took a deep breath and forced himself to stand. Before he turned to leave though, he bent down to brush a curl away from her face, tucking it gently behind an ear. Before rising, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, an action he'd missed for so long.

"Good night, my little one," he whispered before walking out of her room, pulling the door closed until it was open only a crack and heading back downstairs to wait for sleep that he doubted would ever come.


	6. Chapter 5

Rosanna woke to the sunlight filtering through the gap in her curtains and the heavy sound of a silent house. So, Mo and Meggie weren't up yet. It wasn't uncommon for Rosanna to wake before Meggie but usually Mo was up first. Maybe he was just working in his workshop or something.

She took a deep breath as she stretched her arms above her head, blinking against the blinding line of sunshine cast over her bed and into her face. Trying to evade the light, Rosanna turned to roll to her side but quickly stopped, suddenly aware of the weight on her chest. Her breath caught in her throat and for a moment she hesitated to open her eyes, not sure she wanted to know what sat there but after a few moments, she decided it had to be done.

Beady black eyes and a narrow face covered in brown fur met her gaze and a shrill scream escaped her lips. Throwing her blankets back over the creature, she scrambled from her bed, hardly noticing the chill in the house as she fled the room, taking shelter in the hallway beyond. Pressing herself against the wall outside her doorway, she only stared before her, trying to level her rapid, shaking breaths.

What was that thing? And what was it doing in her bed? She was fairly sure she had never seen such a thing near her house before and she most certainly hadn't fallen asleep with one.

Curiosity began to rise within her, giving her a new sort of bravery. Slowly, Rosanna shuffled closer to her doorway, peeking around it. The strange little creature was just a lump of squirming blankets on the bed, trying desperately to free himself from the maze of cloth she had accidently trapped him in.

She startled again as a nearby door was thrown open at the very same time rapid footsteps sounded up the stairs. Looking to one side, she saw Meggie running from the room, blond hair tousled from sleep and eyes wide with panic. To the other side of her, she caught sight of Dustfinger sprinting up the stairs. For just a moment, Rosanna found herself looking at him with a hint of confusion until memories of the prior night flooded back into her mind in violent waves that made her heart pound. Mo was gone. Bad people took him away. But her father was here. Her _father._

"Th-there's something in there," she said, raising a hand to point towards the still squirming blankets on her bed. The sudden panic that stemmed from her realization made her mouth dry and her words come in a hoarse stutter. "I don't know what it is." She glanced back in the direction of the small creature. "Some sort of ferret...or squirrel...or...I dunno but it's there! It was on me when I woke up."

The laughter that erupted from him when he peered into her room sent heat rising into her cheeks. "It's only Gwin," he said, all the tension seeming to melt away from him as he walked into her room. As he moved the blankets, an angry chattering escaped the pointed muzzle that emerged and the creature started forward, climbing his arm to settle on his shoulder. "He must have recognized you when he got back from hunting last night and decided to sleep with you. You two were surprisingly close when you were little. He usually tries to bite anyone who comes close, but never you."

"Gwin," she said the name slowly as if searching each sound for something familiar. Try as she might, though, she couldn't remember the creature.

"I'm sorry he scared you." Dustfinger ran his hand across the marten's fur as he walked back towards where she and Meggie still lingered in the hallway. "I'm sure he didn't mean to. I honestly forgot that he was out last night."

"It's okay," Rosanna said, offering up a small smile despite the flush lingering in her cheeks. "What is he?"

Her fingers twitched at her sides, longing to pet the brown fur and feel the chill of the tiny nose as he sniffed her skin. Not petting strange animals was something she had to be taught over and over again when she was small. Mo always said she'd get hurt one day doing that but it never seemed to stick in her head. After all, her fearless friendliness wasn't limited to only people.

"He's a marten." He carefully lifted the creature from his shoulder, holding him securely in his arms instead. "You can pet him if you want."

"A marten...I've never actually seen one of those up close before." Slowly, she reached out her hand, letting the tips of her fingers brush lightly across the creature's coat. "Hi Gwin," she added in greeting. "Sorry for throwing you earlier."

Soft fur gave away to hard, pointy bone as her finger moved further up his head and she quickly recoiled her hand. Leaning forward, she examined the small bumps only to find the animal had horns.

"Do martens normally have horns?" Her gaze moved to look up at the man before her. She had seen pictures of martens, learned about them at school and on field trips, but never once had she heard of one having horns.

"Only where you and I are from."

"Where we're from? Where's that?" As she spoke, Rosanna's gaze rose to meet his, curiosity sparkling in the darkness of her eyes. _Where you and I are from._ He had said that phrase before and she had meant to ask about it but her attention had been diverted before she had gotten the chance.

While the idea of being from somewhere else filled her with curiosity, she also found herself confused and sad. She had always assumed she was from the same place as Meggie and Mo. After all, they spoke the same, they acted the same, they looked more or less the same. She had never questioned her heritage. But Germany had cars and no martens with horns running around in people's bedrooms.

Dustfinger was quiet for a moment and Rosanna could see the hesitance in his gaze. "I think that's something that would be better explained by Silvertongue."

Rosanna blinked, eyebrows coming closer together and wrinkling the space between them. Why would Mo need to tell her? Hadn't he promised her he would answer her questions? Knowing where exactly she came from seemed pretty big to her, especially when he spoke such strange things about the place.

The fact that he didn't seem to want to talk about it only raised more questions, though she chose not to voice them in the end. It wasn't nice to push a subject too hard if it was obviously being avoided. Plus, he wouldn't answer it anyway. Instead, she just gave a reluctant nod and let her gaze fall to settle on Gwin.

"I'm going to call Aunt Elinor." Meggie's voice, called over her shoulder as she moved passed the two to descend the stairs, pulled Rosanna from her thoughts so abruptly she startled.

"Okay," Rosanna nodded, glancing around Dustfinger to peer at the back of Meggie's head as it bobbed lower and lower with each step. "Remember to mention the book." Meggie waved a hand behind her as she disappeared out of sight.

Where was Mo now? Who had him? And when would they be able to get him back? Not only did she feel his absence in the ache growing in her chest but it seemed he was the answer to the questions Dustfinger was holding back on. This whole questioning of her heritage only seemed to confuse her even more as it went on. She needed him to confirm or deny it. She needed to know.

It seemed like all the time in the world yet no time at all passed when Meggie's voice found its way into the expanse of thoughts clouding Rosanna's mind.

"Elinor will be here in a few hours!"

Relief flooded Rosanna, relaxing the tension she hadn't realized had crept into her shoulders. Not because she was particularly glad to see Elinor or because she found much comfort in the presence of the woman but because now maybe they could fix everything. Elinor had to know what to do. How could she not?

Rosanna glanced back at Dustfinger, who stood looking quite awkward and out of place in the hallway, absently stroking the marten's fur. Elinor didn't like people much as it was. She had a funny feeling her aunt wouldn't much like the strange man who had taken up residence here since Mo's disappearance.

"Aunt Elinor can be kind of...interesting...just to warn you," she told him, knowing all too well how upsetting Elinor's harsh words and off-putting personality could be. It was better if he was at least expecting it.

But Dustfinger only chuckled in response and put Gwin back onto his shoulder. "Trust me, little one," he said, flashing her a small smile, "I've faced far worse than an 'interesting' aunt in my lifetime."

"You've never met Elinor," she retorted. "We've gone to see her once before. It wasn't very fun."

If their house was full of books, Elinor's house was overflowing. Though, at least she kept hers on shelves and not strewn along the floor where one could trip over them. But whereas their books were open to anyone and could be used whenever she wanted, Elinor didn't let you touch her books and she yelled when you got too close. She wasn't much for regular conversation either.

"Oh, I'm sure she isn't anything I can't handle being around." He gave another light chuckle.

"Okay but don't say I didn't warn you," said Rosanna, giving him a playful smile as she stretched her arms above her head, rising up onto her toes for a minute.

As the conversation died, silence permeated the room for what seemed to be far too long of a moment. Rosanna shifted awkwardly, unable to figure out what to do or say next but luckily, Dustfinger spoke up after a moment with a question of his own. "Oh, how was your birthday?"

Rosanna looked at him, noting the seriousness of his expression and meeting it with a questioning look of her own. "My birthday isn't for another couple of months."

The words hadn't yet passed her lips when the meaning of his words suddenly hit her. Doubt turned her expression grave and widened her eyes. Had even her birthday been another of Mo's lies? Was anything she thought she knew real?

Dustfinger gave a few slow shakes of his head. "Your birthday is in spring, little one." His voice was quiet and even Rosanna noted the pity in it. "You were born just as the flowers began to bloom, right as the warm breezes started blowing."

Rosanna's lips parted but she said nothing, only staring at him for a long moment. Everything she thought she was was slowly being chipped away by this man's words. Her birthday was in spring. She had been ten this whole time.

"In Silvertongue's defense," he added reluctantly, as though he didn't really want to be saying the words, "he most likely didn't know when your birthday was."

"He knew everything else," Rosanna said under her breath, voice tight. She felt the familiar sting of tears as they pricked at her eyes.

Part of her hoped it wasn't true, that this man before her was lying after all, but she had heard what Mo said too and it added up too well. Mo hadn't denied Dustfinger's accusations, which meant they were pretty much confirmed. Her father, or who she had always believed was her father, had filled her life with lies and stories. She couldn't even differentiate between what was real and what wasn't about her anymore. How could she?

"I'm sorry, Rosie," he said softly. "I never wanted to hurt you, little one, but I had no other way of explaining who I was to you….and I've been waiting so long to find you again."

Rosanna looked back up at him, his apology surprising her. What was he saying sorry for? It wasn't like _he_ lied to her when he specifically told her he never would.

"It's not your fault. I'd rather know, I think." There was a long pause, as if she wasn't sure if she wanted to say more or not. She leaned back against the wall, tracing invisible patterns across its surface with her finger. "Mo told me he'd never lie to me, you know." Her voice came soft, almost a whisper, and she never truly met his eyes. "He said we'd tell each other everything. I did. I told him everything. Even when I got in trouble at school or the other kids were being mean again...even when he would catch me with the matches. I never lied. He didn't keep up his side of the deal, though. He lied to me. It wasn't even an accident or like he just hid stuff, he actually lied. A lot, too."

"Silvertongue did a lot of things he shouldn't have," he said, matching the low tone of her voice. Rosanna knew he was looking at her but she couldn't bring herself to look back at him. She gave a solemn nod in response, not trusting herself to speak clearly around the lump that had formed in her throat.

Dustfinger crouched down in front of her so he was level with her gaze. "I won't promise that I will always tell you the truth," he began, "because it's my job to try and protect you. But I do promise that if you ask me to tell the truth, I will, at least the best I can."

Tears blurred her vision of him as she gave another set of nods. His words felt like the first bit of genuine honesty she had heard in so long. He hadn't even tried to promise something he couldn't stick to but instead he promised his best and that was something she wished Mo had done.

Rosanna blinked and the tears ran down her face as she moved forward. Without thought, she had thrown her arms around his neck. In that moment, she didn't really care who it was, stranger or not, she just wanted to be held. She wanted to feel like everything would be okay even if it wasn't and she knew it wasn't. It didn't matter that she barely even knew the man before her.

She was vaguely aware of the way he tensed at her touch, hesitating for a moment before he wrapped his arms around her thin frame in return, one hand running across her hair as she cried. "It's alright, little one," he said softly but Rosanna only shook her head and buried her face against his shoulder.

It wasn't alright. It wouldn't be alright. Mo was gone. He had lied to her again and again. And now she couldn't even think about Meggie in quite the same way. Everything was all wrong now and she didn't know how to cope with that.

Rosanna pulled back enough to run the back of her hand over her cheeks, wiping away the wetness that was accumulating there. "Why would he do that?" she said through her crying. "Everything he said was a lie. He knew it. He knew what he was doing. He even knew it when he promised to tell the truth, didn't he? I don't even know anything anymore...I...I don't know what to do...I'm scared...and...and confused...I….I don't…" As the last words passed her lips, the sound came anew, cutting off her voice.

"Oh, Rosie…." His murmured words only barely reached her ears. Taking her face in his hands, he wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. "I promise you, you're still you, Rosanna. You're the kindest ten year old girl anyone could ever hope to meet. You love running and playing outside whenever you can. You let the light of a flame comfort you just as I do. You're still you." He hugged her once more and added, "and I'll be right here with you. I'm not going to lose you again. I promise."

Though Rosanna still wasn't sure what to think of him or his words, she hugged him in return, grip tighter than it was before. His words did come as a comfort and when she pulled away to wipe her eyes again, she even managed to flash a faint smile in his direction.

"Thank you," she said, voice soft as a whisper.

Dustfinger wiped away a stray tear on her cheek, returning her smile. "You don't have to thank me, little one. I'll always be here if you need me."

Rosanna nodded once more, breathing deeply through her nose to calm her shaky breathing. She hated crying so much. Not necessarily the act of crying but the strong emotions that brought it on. She hated the pain.

"It'll be alright, Rosanna," he told her. His hands fell to his side as he spoke. "It might not seem like it now but it will."

"It will be alright," she repeated his words under her breath as though that would bind them and make them true. She gave one last nod in response and brushed her hair out of her face, vaguely aware of how terrible she must look with her reddened face and tear-stained cheeks.

"Why don't you go get dressed?" He brushed a dark curl away from her face. "I'll meet you downstairs when you're done, okay?"

"Okay," Rosanna answered, giving him one last long look before trudging into her bedroom and shutting the door. Tears threatened to return again as she crossed the floor to her closet, but she quickly blinked them back. Instead, she turned her attention to the clothes hanging just beyond the door. What would she wear today?

She reached up and pulled two of her favorite dresses from the rack. Neither one was particularly suited to the still chilly weather they had been having but she would just be sitting around waiting for Elinor all day. Of course, the idea of going outside to pass the time crossed her mind, so a pair of leggings or tights might make it better.

Which dress to wear today, though? The white one was her favorite but why waste it sitting around when she could wear it tomorrow when they left? Setting it aside on her unmade bed for the next day, she quickly changed into the other.

The dress was made to look as though it had a light blue t-shirt under its navy and light blue striped fabric and the skirt fell to just above her knees. She paired the piece with light blue tights and ran her fingers through the mess of tight curls that framed her face before going to look at herself in the mirror that hung inside the closet door. She liked the outfit and already it seemed as though the redness of her face was beginning to calm.

When Rosanna emerged from her room moments later, she noticed Dustfinger was no longer standing in the hallway. She didn't go downstairs right away though, choosing instead to stop by the bathroom and clean herself up. A cold washcloth ran across her face took care of the tear stains lingering on her cheeks and left her feeling far better than she had before. She gave a quick smile in the mirror's direction and then quickly trotted towards the stairs.

She was only a few steps down before she paused, remembering something she had almost forgotten. Back in her room, she spotted the little doll that had been returned to her the prior night sitting on the ground by her bed, half draped in the blankets that spilled over the side of it. It was another day now but she found she still wanted the doll with her so she grabbed it, tucking it into the crook of her arm before hurrying down the stairs again.

Rosanna made her way into the kitchen to see Dustfinger standing there by the back door. "Oh, there you are," she said as she walked towards the pantry. "I'm getting breakfast. Do you want some?"

Dustfinger glanced over his shoulder as she spoke. "That would be nice," he nodded.

"I can make cereal," Rosanna offered. "And maybe eggs but I've only done that a few times so I can't say if it will come out good."

She had never really cooked without Mo's supervision and guidance. Usually he helped her - or she was actually just helping him - but she was willing to try it on her own. Rosanna was fairly confident she remembered the steps and eggs really weren't _that_ hard.

"I'm sure whatever you make will be amazing," came Dustfinger's voice again, further encouraging her decision.

"I'm going to try the eggs. If it turns out bad, we can just have cereal." Rosanna moved to gather supplies - the pan, a bowl, whisk, eggs - working off a checklist written in her mind. When she had carefully laid everything out on the counter, she hurried back to entryway of the kitchen, leaning out the doorway. "Meggie," she called. "Do you want some eggs for breakfast?"

Meggie stepped into the hallway to meet her sister, though she never quite met her gaze. "Yes, please," she nodded. "That would be nice."

Rosanna frowned at her sister's disposition and when she spoke again, her tone was more serious. "Alright. I'll call you when they're done." Expression solemn, she ducked back into the kitchen. Sure Rosanna also felt more or less awkward around her sister with the question of her own heredity hanging around them but Meggie couldn't even look at her. It hurt.

Wordlessly, the child pushed a step stool in front of the stove, allowing her to better reach the controls on the back, and got to work, letting the simple task distract her. That would be key today, it seemed; distractions.

"Are you alright, little one," though concern was in his voice, his words pulled her back into the situation again and she almost wished he hadn't said them. Right now, she just wanted to forget everything that had happened.

"Yeah," she muttered half-heartedly, hoping to push the conversation aside. "I'll be fine."

He seemed to understand, not pushing the subject further. "Is there anything you would like me to do to help?" he asked as he moved to lean against the counter next to her, inclining his head towards the pan she stood over.

"Hmm," she murmured as she glanced around the room, searching for something he could help her with. The eggs were covered for now but there were other parts of breakfast she could use a hand on if they wanted to finish quicker. "We can have toast too," she said. "You can make that."

For a moment, he just looked at her and both their expressions turned quizzical. "What is that?" he asked.

Rosanna stopped what she was doing, slowly turning to face him better. What was-who hadn't heard of toast! It was toast!

"Toast," she repeated, the tone of her voice telling how obvious it should have been. "Like, bread you put into a toaster until it turns a little brown."

"You put it into what?" His eyebrows pulled together as his confusion increased. If it wasn't for that, she would have thought he was only joking.

"A toaster," she said, facing him fully now. "That thing right there." Her finger moved to point at the small silver machine tucked into the corner of the countertops. "You've really never seen one before?"

"I can't say that I really have…" he told her with a slight shake of his head.

Rosanna couldn't help but stare as she attempted to understand how a grown man had gone his entire life without knowing what toast was. It was toast!

After a moment, she managed to compose herself, leaning across the counter to pull the toaster closer to them. "Okay...I can teach you. How about we do the first one together and then you can take it from there. It's easy-peasy once you get the hang of it."

"Sounds like a good plan to me," he agreed, giving another smile.

Rosanna hopped down from her stool, trotting over to the pantry to grab the bread. She went ahead and grabbed jam from the fridge as well, setting both items beside the toaster. "Okay," she said as she plugged the machine into the wall. "First things first, we need bread. Oh!" Suddenly, Rosanna jumped back down and hurried over to the dishwasher, pulling from it three plates and placing them on the counter as well.

"I forgot the plates," Rosanna announced as she climbed back up to her place and took two pieces of bread from the bag. She handed one of them to him. "All you have to do is drop it into one of the little openings here and press down this lever." She dropped her slice into its slot and pointed to the lever on the front of the toaster. "It's already set up how we like it, so it will cook on its own. You'll know it's done when it pops back up."

Dustfinger nodded and dropped his own slice of bread into the slot next to Rosanna's. "I think I can handle that," he said as he pushed down the lever.

"Okay, then you can be on toast duty while I finish up the eggs," smiled Rosanna as she went about her own task, dumping the scrambled egg mixture into the now hot pan. It didn't take her long to finish them and soon she was pushing the pan to a cool section across the stove and shutting it off.

"I actually did it!" she chirped happily before moving over to divide it between the three plates. "All by myself too."

Dustfinger smiled at her as he put the last slices of toast on a plate. "I had no doubt you could," he said. "It looks amazing, Rosanna."

"Thank you," Rosanna grinned up at her father. His praise made the little triumph even better. "Now we need to set the table and then we can eat."

Grabbing three cups from the cupboard above her, she made her way to the table, setting them out in front of three of the four chairs. Dustfinger followed her, two of the plates in hand. He set them down on the table next to the cups before going to retrieve the third.

"What do you want to drink?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder. "We have milk, juice, chocolate milk, or water."

"Just water will be fine."

Rosanna gave him a nod as she went back to the doorway. "Meggie," she called. "Breakfast is done! And what do you want to drink?"

"Regular milk, please," Meggie replied quietly as she headed towards the kitchen, casting a cautious look at Dustfinger before taking a seat.

Rosanna quickly got the drinks together, sitting them in their rightful spots, before taking her own seat. Seeing her father still just standing there, she quickly leaned over to pat the empty seat next to hers, gesturing him closer.

"I made them all by myself for the first time," Rosanna said, turning to cast Meggie a cautious smile. "I think they look pretty good too."

Rosanna's smile widened when Meggie responded with a compliment but even so Rosanna could feel the tension though they were both trying. That was the saddest thing about this whole situation, she thought; she and Meggie growing apart already. She wasn't just losing faith in a man she spent nine years believing was her father but if she and Meggie couldn't get over this, she would lose her too.

A long period of silence hung in the air as they each focused on the food before them but it wasn't too long before Rosanna spoke up again. Suddenly remembering the question she had meant to ask earlier, she looked towards Dustfinger.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "I almost forgot I had another question."

Dustfinger looked up from his plate and nodded in her direction. "And what would that be, little one?"

"Well, what should I call you?" she asked. "Or what did I call you? Before...you know…"

Rosanna knew what his name was, or at least what Mo had called him. Though, given he called Mo 'Silvertongue', she wasn't so sure that was his real name. Not to mention, most fathers didn't like being called by their names. That was something only Mo had done.

.

"Well, you can call me whatever you'd like," he began slowly. "But when you were little, you called me 'daddy'. It was the only word you knew at the time."

"Daddy," she said the words as though tasting it for the first time; trying it out as though it was unfamiliar. And it was. But she liked it all the same. "I've never called anyone that before. Or at least I don't remember it, I guess. Mo was always just...Mo."

"Well, like I said, you can call me whatever you like," Dustfinger replied, a slight smile coming to his face. "I won't mind whatever you decide on."

Rosanna took a moment to think it over. She hadn't known him long at all but at the same time, all signs pointed to this man really being her father. Mo had practically said so himself. It would take her some time to be completely comfortable saying it but she wanted to stick to the name she used as a baby.

"No." She gave a slight shake of her head. "I like 'daddy.' If I used to call you that, I want to call you that now, I think."

Dustfinger's smile widened some though he seemed to be trying to hide it and a smile grew on her face at the sight. "Alright," he nodded. "If that's what you'd like to do."


	7. Chapter Six

**A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry for the unplanned hiatus! We both started college in August and have been trying to get the hang of everything now that we have a new schedule! We'll be uploading a new chapter every other week now, so keep an eye out in the next couple of weeks!**

Chapter Six

Rosanna's lungs ached as they expanded in her chest with each ragged breath but she didn't dare stop. They were so close. With her arm stretched out before her, fingers splayed in desperation, she could almost touch one of them. Just a little faster, a little further.

The sound of a dying engine and a car door slamming shut startled her and Rosanna stumbled to a stop. Both Meggie and Dustfinger froze as well, their game forgotten. For a moment, as they ran through the yard, passing the time that seemed to drag tediously on, all her worries seemed to have disappeared from her mind. Meggie was still her sister, Mo was just inside, and Dustfinger was only visiting. But it seemed her momentary distraction had come to an end.

"That must be Elinor," Meggie said, turning on her heel and sprinting back to the house.

But Rosanna didn't follow her right away. She hesitated outside, unable to bring herself to step back into the empty house that still spoke to her of the prior night's events at every turn. She didn't want to leave the blissful world created by her game in favor of one so terrifying and confusing. But it had to be done if she wanted to save Mo. And she did. So badly.

"I'll warn you again about Elinor," she said, not looking at the man standing just in front of her. Her voice lacked all the mirth from the previous warning in exchange for something lacking any significant tone. "Honestly, I just ignore her most of the time."

"I'll be sure to try that," his voice replied to her. She was vaguely aware of his footsteps following her as she stepped past him, slowly making her way towards the house. Rosanna stopped at the back door, holding it open until Dustfinger had passed her before moving towards the living room.

"Oh, come on now, Meggie dear." Meggie had already let Elinor inside and now the woman walked through their living room, depositing the single overnight bag she'd brought on the couch without a glance at either of them. "Whatever you said over the phone about Mortimer and all that nonsense will be sorted out soon enough."

Though Rosanna knew her demeanor, the woman still managed to be quite intimidating to the young child and she found herself being very quiet and polite even in the walls of her own home. Elinor ensured her best behavior long ago through her quips about Rosanna's energy or the tone of her voice or how she didn't quite treat her book well enough.

"Nonsense?" Meggie's voice rose an octave, her expression incredulous as she quickly turned to look at her aunt. "Mo was taken away in the middle of the night and now some strange man is saying he's Rosanna's father! How is that nonsense?"

Elinor paused as if surprised by the tone the child took with her and turned to look at Meggie. Rosanna felt as though she could feel the disapproval radiating off of her. "Everything you just said, dear girl, is quite utter nonsense. Mortimer is just as much Rosanna's father as he is yours and I highly doubt that some strange men would just turn up and snatch him away into the night like the Pied Piper or...or Peter Pan. Nobody would go to such lengths for a bookbinder."

"But they did, Aunt Elinor," Rosanna spoke up. Her voice sounded desperate, as though she were begging Elinor to believe them. They needed her to. At least the part about Mo. The rest they could handle later. "They came last night and took Mo away. We watched them. Meggie and I, we hid in my room so they didn't find us, but it really happened. You have to believe us!"

Elinor looked down at Rosanna and for a moment she worried she'd said something wrong, something to get her in trouble but Elinor only walked further into the house. "Well let's just get settled and we'll talk more about it much more civilly than ramblings over the phone." Her sentence was punctuated with a glance towards Meggie.

Rosanna turned in place, watching Elinor approach the kitchen. Dustfinger took a step back as Elinor made her way towards him as though she owned the place but he seemed to freeze as the woman stopped before him, eyebrows raising. "And who in Anne's green gables are you?" she asked, folding her arms over her chest in that way that made even grown men feel like naughty school children.

"That's, um," Rosanna hesitated, unsure of if she really wanted to bring it up in front of the woman. "That's my father, Aunt Elinor. Well, uh...probably, anyways….Mo didn't deny it when he said it anyway…"

"Your what?" Elinor said, tone harsh as she whipped her head around to stare down at Rosanna. "That has got to be the most ridiculous thing I've heard since dog-eared pages, child!"

"My father," Rosanna repeated in response to her question. "Mo practically said so himself and he's been telling me stuff. It all makes sense. I mean, that's why I don't have baby pictures or look like Meggie. Mo's been lying this whole time...probably…"

It all fit together so well, she had to remind herself that is hadn't quite been officially confirmed yet and she probably shouldn't get so attached.

"Oh, honestly now," Elinor huffed. "If you truly believe that, it's a miracle your still in school."

That hurt. It hurt more than she wanted to. Heat rose into her face again, tinging her cheeks with embarrassment. But Elinor only whirled around to Dustfinger as though she hadn't noticed the child's hurt feelings.

"As for you," she continued without missing a single beat, "I don't know what you're playing at but you can just go right on out now. I am perfectly capable of taking care of these two until their father returns from wherever he's gone off to this time."

"I told him he could stay," Rosanna countered, casting a fearful glance towards her father before meeting Elinor's gaze again. Strange how determination put the same heat in your cheeks as anger and embarrassment. "And Mo didn't just 'go off somewhere.' Aunt Elinor, we're telling you some people took him away! They were looking for some book and took him too. I swear!"

"Besides," added Meggie, stepping up beside her sister. "even if he isn't Rosanna's father, he knows where Mo is. We'll need him to get Mo back."

Elinor raised one eyebrow as she turned her sharp gaze to Dustfinger once more. "Oh really?" Her words dropped her skepticism. Dustfinger only nodded in response, obviously smart enough not to try talking too much right now. "Well, come on then," Elinor added, turning on her heel to march into the kitchen. "We'll get this all sorted out."

Rosanna stood and watched as Elinor passed her, disappearing into the kitchen. She didn't believe them. That thought alone sent fear coursing through her veins again. What would they do if they couldn't convince Elinor they were telling the truth? They needed her just as much as they needed Dustfinger. Without both of them, they couldn't save Mo, and they needed to save him.

She looked back at her father, mouthing a silent apology so Elinor wouldn't hear her, and headed into the kitchen herself. Elinor and Meggie had both already sat at the table; Meggie taking the seat she had claimed earlier that day and Elinor sitting in the one usually reserved for Mo.

"Oh, do hurry up, child," Elinor sighed, her shoe tapping rhythmically against the tile flooring, "or we'll be sitting here longer than Rip Van Winkle."

Rosanna frowned but abided to Elinor's request, hurrying to claim her seat. She looked back at her father, meeting his eyes as she patted the chair next to hers. "You can sit here by me," she offered before turning her attention back to Elinor. Slowly, Dustfinger made his way across the kitchen and sat down next to her.

"Now tell me what all of this is about," Elinor said, looking expectantly between the two girls.

"Okay," Rosanna began, deciding to start from the very beginning. "Last night, he-" she gestured to the man sitting stiffly at her side "-came to our house after Meggie and I were supposed to be in bed but we weren't. We were listening from the stairs. They basically just fought over who was my dad and I didn't understand it until the very end but when he said Mo took me and all that, Mo didn't actually deny it."

Rosanna felt the tug of pain at her heart that was beginning to become familiar as she recited the events of the night before. Somehow, talking about it seemed to make the feeling stronger. A lump formed in her throat, choking her words as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

"Mo sent him away later that night," she continued, "but later last night, a whole bunch of men broke in looking for some book. They never said what it was but I guess they found it and took Mo too. Meggie and I were hiding so we didn't get caught. After they left, he came back-" she gestured towards the fire eater, "-and explained a bunch of things and he's been helping us since then."

"It's true," Meggie agreed though there was a reluctance to her voice. It almost sounded like she didn't want to admit it. "I heard the conversation too...Mo didn't deny it…"

"What book could they possibly want that would be so important that they would take your father for it?" Elinor asked. She still stared them down incredulously but Rosanna could see some unidentifiable part of her expression shift. Were they actually convincing her?

"Inkheart," Dustfinger muttered as if it was a curse rather than a book title. "They want Inkheart."

"Inkheart? But Mortimer brought me that book months ago when he and the girls came for a visit." Elinor shook her head. "He wouldn't have had it here with him."

Dustfinger jerked his head up, eyes widening and lips parting as if he had so much to say but couldn't. Rosanna pressed her hands to the table, pushing herself to her feet. Her chair protested shrilly as it skidded across the flooring.

"What? But then...what will they do to Mo when they find out?" Rosanna asked. Panic quickened her heartbeat until she could feel it hammering against her ribs.

"They won't be very happy, that's for sure," Dustfinger said so softly she almost didn't hear it through the sound of her own blood rushing through her ears.

"We have to take them the book then," Meggie said, standing up herself. "They'll let him go once they have the book, right?"

"That's the worst possible idea!" Dustfinger argued, looking towards the child. "They want your father to do something for them. If you go there, it only gives them something to hold against him unless he does what he's told to."

"But if we don't go, they could hurt him, couldn't they?" Rosanna looked towards her father, not bothering to conceal the desperation that was slowly increasing in her expression. They couldn't just leave Mo! "And what if they come looking for the right book? They could come after us anyway."

There was no telling what the black-clad men would do to Mo, or even them if they didn't get the proper book. The thought was terrifying though there was no possible way her mind could truly conjure up what the men were capable of.

"What's so important about this book, anyway? And what could they possibly want Mo to do?"

Dustfinger was silent a moment though Rosanna's dark gaze stayed fixated on him, boring into him as though she could force answers and solutions from his lips with only her gaze. But he didn't even notice her, even when he began talking.

"You're right," he said reluctantly. "They'll get their hands on the book either way. And if we take it to him, there's a chance they may not hurt anyone else."

It almost surprised Rosanna to hear him agree with her. She honestly thought when he began arguing their ideas it would take a lot more to convince them. "Then it's settled?" she asked, expression growing serious. "We'll go to Aunt Elinor's, get the book, and then we can go and help Mo?"

Dustfinger hesitated but nodded. "As long as Meggie's aunt agrees." He glanced towards Elinor. "She would have to be the one to take us."

"Well don't look at me like that!" she said indignantly. Her frown deepened as her gaze swept over the people surrounding her. "Of course we'll go. You don't honestly believe that I'd refuse to trade a book for Mortimer's life, do you?"

Rosanna and Meggie exchanged almost embarrassed glances. "So," Rosanna said as she sat back down, scooting her chair back up and under her, "what exactly is our plan?"

"Simple," stated Elinor, folding her arms over her chest. "We drive back to my house, grab the book, and take it to whoever wants it, and then return with Mortimer and finally get all this cleared up and behind us where it belongs."

Rosanna didn't miss the look of irritation that passed her father's gaze and neither did Elinor. "Don't you go looking at me like that," she said fiercely, waving a finger in his direction. "You're lucky I haven't called the police and had you taken away in handcuffs just yet, which I really ought to do."

Her words made Dustfinger flinch back in alarm but if Elinor noticed that, she didn't let on. Instead, she only huffed and continued. "Do you have any sort of plan then?"

"Well, my dear Elinor," Dustfinger began, his tone sarcastic. The corner of Rosanna's mouth twitched into what could have been a smile had she not quickly repressed it. "I would suggest resting up tonight because if you do insist on going to Capricorn's village, you are most certainly going to need it. And then we go and get that accursed book from your house tomorrow morning and do what those black-jackets say until they have what they want. Because trust me, that is the only way we will make it out safely."

By the end of his speech, each word dripping with sarcasm though the plan was a good one, Rosanna couldn't help the snort of amusement that came from her, attracting such a fierce look from her aunt it silenced her immediately.

"Fine then," Elinor said, pushing her chair back as she stood. "I'll take the guest room then. Meggie, be a good girl and help me bring my bags in." Dustfinger opened his mouth slightly as though to interject but shut it again as Elinor spin on him, her finger far too close to his face for comfort. "And before you say anything about the guest room being yours just remember that you could be sleeping under a bridge somewhere. You certainly look as if you have been recently."

Dustfinger narrowed his eyes but watched in silence as she left the room. "Lovely woman, that one," he muttered.

Rosanna let herself slouch forward, draping her arms across the table in front of her as her chin rested on the wooden surface. Her doll was still clutched tightly in her hand. Elinor was definitely a person Rosanna preferred to avoid if she could; with her comments and sharp voice. Dealing with her was often exhausting and just left Rosanna feeling generally bad about herself.

"Yeah," Rosanna said softly. "I warned you. But don't worry. The couch isn't so bad. I've slept on it before. And I'll make sure to bring you pillows and blankets and stuff too."

Dustfinger turned a small smile in her direction. "Thank you very much, little one," he replied before seeming to remember something. "Oh, are we still on for my little performance tonight?"

Rosanna picked her head up off the table, instantly perking up at the thought. In all the commotion, she had almost forgotten Dustfinger's promise to show her what he did with fire. "Yes!" she nodded eagerly. "Definitely."

"Alright," Dustfinger nodded himself, smile broadening. "We'll have to wait until it's completely dark outside though. Maybe around eleven o'clock tonight? You can invite Meggie to come to watch too if you'd like."

Rosanna gave a nod, though some of the excitement had seemed to have faded. Completely dark. The sound of that made her heart beat a little faster for reason far different than excitement. She had never been fond of darkness. It was one of the reasons she kept the candles and the matches tucked away in her room.

"Are you alright?"

Rosanna looked up at her father, biting her lower lip as she hesitated to answer. "Does it...does it have to be so dark?"

For a moment, his eyes widened slightly, as though her fear had only just occurred to him. "I'm afraid so. But it won't be dark for long with what I'm going to show you. And I'm sure if you ask Gwin nicely, he'll accompany you and Meggie as well."

Rosanna giggled. The thought of asking animals anything and the way he said it like Gwin could understand her request down to the way she said it, was quite amusing. It left her with the picture of Gwin answering back in ridiculous accents that only made her laugh again.

"Alright," she told him. She had planned on seeing his performance either way but she felt a bit better now nonetheless. "I'm still very curious."

"I'm sure you'll enjoy it."

"Well," she said, "I like fire and your performance has something to do with that so I'm sure I will but I have no idea what it is still."

A secretive smile played at his lips and Rosanna felt her mouth curving up to mimic the gesture. "You'll just have to wait and see."


End file.
